This story was inspired by an interview that appeared on National Public Radio's
This American Life
where the interviewer was talking to young singles to get their impressions of the idea of the summer of 2021 being Shotgirl Summer, and whether they were taking part.
This is also my entry into the 2021 Summer Lovin' contest. If you like it, please vote! And if you really like it, click on my author link and read some other stories I've published.
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The pandemic took a toll on my love life. For the last couple years, I thought I'd found the guy that I was going to marry. Ross was tall, handsome, fun loving, had a great sense of humor, and given that he seemed madly in love with me, clearly had good taste in women. He was also amazing in bed.
Neither of us were all that concerned about COVID. We both knew a few people at school who had caught it, and the worst thing they had to deal with was the quarantine and maybe a bit of a head cold. But then I got unlucky. I caught it right before winter break, and couldn't go home to be with my family. I told Ross that he needed to get tested, but he refused. "I'd rather not know. They'll just tell me that I can't go home either!" He never had any symptoms, but his mom got sick during winter break, and was one of the unlucky people who got a long case of it. Her sense of smell still hasn't recovered as far as I know.
This put a strain on our relationship, to say the least. If Ross felt guilty about possibly being responsible for his mom's trouble, he would never admit it. "We don't know that she caught it from me! We don't even know that I had it!" But unconsciously I think he was feeling guilty and was coping with it by blaming me. I don't know. That might be armchair psychoanalysis, but I do know that something changed between us last semester around the time it became clear that his mom was in it for the long haul. We started arguing about stupid little things that never bothered us before, and having big arguments over things that we'd always been able to deal with. After one big blowup right before midterms, he dumped me.
I was heartbroken, and a complete mess emotionally for weeks. It's amazing that I passed all my classes, to be honest. Three months later I can still feel the sadness rise up in me when I think about it. The beautiful life I'd envisioned will have to happen some other way, with some other guy. And even if I was up for it psychologically, this would be a terrible time to find whoever he is. I'm on track to graduate in December, and then who knows where I'll be? It almost certainly won't be in the city where I'm getting my bachelor's degree. I'm a psych major, and I'm looking at graduate programs in a bunch of places, but not here.
My friends, and particularly my housemate Mandy have been there for me, trying to help me get past this rough, rough patch in my life. Some have tried to lighten the mood by making jokes like, "Rachel, seriously, you're better off. Did you want to be hearing
Friends
jokes for the rest of your life?" Honestly, I never minded being part of Ross and Rachel. In fact, I thought it was cute, so that didn't help much. But they also listened when I needed someone to listen, tried to distract me when I needed distractions, gave advice when I asked for it, and slowly I started to feel a little better. But still not great. Not by a long shot.
Toward the beginning of June, a little less than three months after the breakup, Mandy announced that it was time for us to shake off our troubles, go out and get drunk. "In fact," she continued, "I think you need to get laid."
"Seriously? When have you ever known me to pick up a guy in a bar and go home with him? I fooled around with some guys in high school, but you know that I've only ever fucked two guys, and both of them were my boyfriends at the time! Some advice you've got there."
"Don't be so quick to blow me off. You've been laser focused on what you lost for weeks now. You need to look at it as an opportunity! You have a chance now to try on different versions of yourself, and have some fun in the process. If you don't start having some casual sex, when are you going to get laid again? Grad school? That's over a year from now! And think about it, when are you ever going to be young and foolish enough to have some adventures? There are a lot of guys out there, and they all have different personalities, skills, kinks, and cock sizes. If I were you, I'd want to sample a few! And it's not like it will be difficult for you, you gorgeous little bitch! Long raven hair, slim athletic body, big blue eyes, with cute round tits above and a cute round ass below? You look like a river nymph from Greek mythology! You'd have your pick of the litter if you'd put on some makeup and a smile!"
I rolled my eyes and said, "I'll go out bar hopping with you, but I seriously doubt I'm going to bring a man home with me."
"Your loss. That sure as hell is my plan for the night!"
Sure enough, we went out and Mandy turned up the charm. And what she said about how it would be easy for me was certainly true about her. If I was a nymph, she was an Amazon goddess. Long, wavy blonde hair, 5' 10'' tall, so about four inches taller than me, and built solid. She has something like a 38D bra and hips and ass to match with a waist that's a few inches narrower in between. She attracted attention wherever we went.
We flirted with some guys, and found a few who bought us drinks, including a couple of good-looking ones who had the good fortune to have our attention toward the end of the evening. Well, one of them had good fortune. By the end of the evening, Mandy and I were walking home with Rob on her arm. But I felt no spark at all with Steve.
I think Mandy was intentionally being loud enough for me to hear when she orgasmed in her room down the hall after we got home. And her little plan worked. Laying there in the dark listening to her moaning and crying out in ecstasy, I started to think, what the hell? Why am I all alone with my vibrator when I could be having fun like that? And what am I worried about, that I'll get a 'reputation'? This isn't the fucking 1950s! And even if I did, so what? I'm blowing out of this town by the end of the year.
It was the following weekend when Mandy, being the persistent type, asked me if I'd ever heard the term "Shotgirl Summer." According to what she'd been hearing, lots of girls were so tired of being cooped up alone in their apartments during the pandemic that once they got their vaccines, they were ready to PAR-TAY! She'd even been hearing rumors about panties showing up in the lost in found at bars! "We need to do this, Rachel! You in particular NEED to do this!"
I surprised her when I said, "You know what? Fuck it. I'm in!"
Mandy's whole face lit up and she squealed, "EEEEEEEEYESSS! Oh, this is going to be fucking awesome! I'm making an appointment for bikini waxes for both of us, my treat! You go get a couple hundred condoms!"
I laughed out loud at that. "A couple hundred might be ambitious, but sure, I'll stock up. And if we run out, I'll get more. I've never had a bikini wax before, but if I'm going to be a whole new version of myself, then sure, why not?"
And as it turns out, it seemed like there might be something to this shotgirl summer thing. Waxing appointments were booked for days. Mandy had never had this much trouble finding an available time. It seemed like a lot of girls were getting ready to show off parts that they hadn't shown anyone in a long while.
Over the course of the week, I asked questions about picking up guys, since Mandy had a talent for it, and I knew nothing. "It's easy", she said. "Some guy will try a lame pickup line, and instead of blowing him off, you start to flirt back. Ask him some trivial stuff about himself. Let him buy you a drink. If you feel any kind of connection at all, tell him you think he's really cute, or find something that you like about him. Tell him he's on the verge of getting really lucky if he plays his cards right. Then ask him what he'd do to you if you were both alone in your bedroom. If he's smart, he'll mention making sure that you cum. If he's really smart, he'll mention making you cum first! Then lay down some ground rules, the chief one being that a condom is mandatory. Then lean into his ear, slowly breathe a hot breath into it and say, "Let's get out of here".
"Sounds simple enough. But I might need more than one drink."
"Then tell him so. But be careful. You don't want to be so drunk that you can't regain control of the situation if things aren't going the way you want."
"Right, absolutely."
That Friday night, we got dressed up in our sexiest outfits. Mandy had skin tight jeans, and clearly was wearing a thong bikini, or maybe no underwear at all. There sure wasn't any panty line. It would have shown if there was. We both had low cut blouses, but I opted for a thong and a black leather miniskirt. We put condoms in our purses and fuck me pumps on our feet, and took a look in the mirror by the door.
"Damn, girl," I said. "I'm straight as an arrow and even I can tell you look hot. With those amber eyes and all those gorgeous long curls? And your body?" I touched her forearm with my fingertip and made a sharp hissing sound as I pulled it back like I'd been burned. Mandy laughed and said, "Right back at you Rache. I'm so glad to see you finally ready to have a good time!" She straightened her arm like a sword, tapped me on both shoulders and proclaimed, "For the rest of the night, you are no longer merely Rachel Brown. I dub thee, 'Shotgirl!'"
We got to one of our favorite bars and started scoping the place out. "You see anyone you like?" Mandy asked. There were a few groups hanging out together, but guys and girls together. Not much opportunity there. Then I noticed a couple of guys walk in. One of them taller than the other, but both cute. I pointed them out and said, "How about them"?
"Ooooh, there is definitely some possibility there! Which one do you like?"
"Like? I haven't met them yet."
"Noooo, no, no, no, no. Let me rephrase. Which one do you want, shotgirl?"
"Oh, right. The tall one is really cute."
