Charmed Thirds_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [61]
The Psychosocial Theory: I am in the identity versus role confusion stage of development, during which it is perfectly normal to want to try out a skanky persona, so I kissed a Republican.
The Reciprocal Influence Theory: I flirted with William, making him want to kiss me; in turn, he flirted with me, making me want to kiss him, so I kissed a Republican.
The Social-Cognitive Theory: I was flattered by William's superficial compliment about my hotness, so I kissed a Republican.
The Freudian Theory: I subconsciously want to have sex with my father—a retrocon—so I kissed a Republican.
The Situational Theory: I was drunk off my ass, so I kissed a Republican.
The Humanistic Theory: I have a history of doing things I otherwise wouldn't do when under the influence of mind-altering chemicals, so I kissed a Republican.
The Dispositional Theory: I'm a malcontent by nature and wanted to fuck things up for myself, so I kissed a Republican.
The Rational-Emotive Theory: I'm young! I'm not married!! I've got a city full of people and possibilities to explore!!! The world won't stop turning if I cheat on Marcus!!!! So I kissed a Republican.
None of my analysis has resulted in a theory that rings true. The closest I've come is this:
The Fight-or-Flight Theory: I was aroused by the danger of the forbidden, of getting caught, and I wanted to take that exhilarating risk, like taking a leap off of a soaring, breathtaking cliff, so I kissed a Republican.
And the only reason this one feels right is because every bone in my body aches from just recently smash-landing into the depths of the darkest crevasse.
the eighth
15 DOWN: BIGMOUTH STRIKES AGAIN
The media has been on Britney Spears's case for “ruining the sanctity of marriage” with her whirlwind wedding/annulment weekend, but I think matrimonial monogamy is a seriously flawed concept. Roughly half of married couples split up. Those odds suck. Think of it this way: Would you buy a car if you knew there was a 50 percent chance it would blow up somewhere on the road of life? I think not.
“But what about the fifty percent who do stay together?” you ask. “What about them?”
Well, they should probably break up, too. Exhibit A: my parents.
My parents have been married for thirty-two years. They are the exact opposite of Bethany and G-Money. They're always in the same house, but never speak directly to each other. They talk around each other, and almost always through other people. I never really noticed this before, but since I'm trapped in the house with nothing else to do, I've had ample opportunities to observe my parents' dysfunctions up close and personal.
Like this morning, when I was brooding over coffee and the New York Times crossword puzzle. I wasn't really doing it. I was just filling in spaces with titles of songs by The Smiths and Morrissey as a solo artist. I wasn't even checking to see if I had the right number of letters. When 7 DOWN came up short, I just added three exclamation points to SUEDEHEAD. When 13 ACROSS proved too long, I let THE LAST OF THE INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOYS dangle off the edge of the puzzle like a suicidal jumper.
My mom breezed in with a handful of swatches in a variety of plaids.
“Do you know when your father plans to take down the Christmas tree?”
And I said, “Uh, no.”
16 ACROSS: GIRLFRIEND IN A COMA
And she said, “Well, he needs to take it down today if he wants to put it out on the curb for recycling tomorrow.”
And I said, “Okay.”
And she said, “He's going to come back and track mud all over the floor.”
And I said, “Probably.”
And she left, leaving a mist of Chanel No. 5 in her wake.
5 DOWN: OUR FRANK
Not two minutes later, my father came in, still wearing his bike helmet, smearing muddy footprints all over the floor.
“Have you seen your mother?”
“Yeah,” I said. “She wants you to put out the Christmas tree.”
“It doesn't need to go out until tomorrow,” he said. “Did she