This brunch is going to be so empowering and wonderful. We’re going to gossip, do each other’s makeup, and conspire to take down powerful men in the entertainment industry and politics with horrifying stories we just made up for fun—you know, girly stuff! Unless…is Jessica coming? If Jessica is coming then I’m not. She’s gonna try to sell us candles. It’s been ten years. I know a candle trap when I see one.
I’d just love to go to a gathering of women where we don’t pretend these at-home makeup, candle, and dildo sellers are “entrepreneurs” instead of “victims of a pyramid scheme.” And I’d love to be friends with women like Jessica without being added to the same Facebook group every five days. If we’re going to get anywhere in this sexist world, we have to admit
when our gender is being conned when Jessica is being conned. And that nobody actively seeks out the smell of teak wood.
Look, I don’t know how Jessica got roped into that candle cult and what they’ll do to her babies if she doesn’t recruit us into selling candles, too, but I’m done wondering. Do you remember last time when we thought we were going to a sex-toy sale at her house? With boxed wine and jokes about droopy husband penises? Nope! Candles. She gave me one of those customized “smells like home” candles as a free gift which was really insensitive because nobody at my home has a nose.
Did any of you go to Jessica’s husband’s funeral? IT WAS A CANDLE-SELLING FRONT. I mean, her husband was dead, but when I tried to console her with a Tupperware dish and a book of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s inspirational tweets, she batted them away and offered me a fall candle collection for $59.99. And I felt so bad about her dead husband I had to buy and burn them all. My house smells like a Cinnabon. Thank God nobody at home has a nose. Since Jessica became a part of our friend group all my furniture has been caked in wax. My dog poops wicks.
Look, I really do want to go to this brunch. I want to hang out with other women in a non-baby shower setting more than anything in the world. I want to drink bottomless mimosas and talk about our feelings and connect to the underworld goddess of snakes to bring about the end of men. I want to do all that girly shit! But I just don’t feel like our brunches are a safe space anymore. It’s one thing when Abby brings crystals. Those might actually help us in the upcoming de-penising ritual.
But I’m sorry—I draw the line at Jessica’s candles.