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If Carla was in high school, she would have hated Monica to cover up her latent gay feelings. That was how it went back then. While she was smoking weed in her friend’s garage, listening to the Pixies or whatever, she would talk about girls like Monica and how they were so bitchy, and guys were just so much easier to get along with, you know? Then at night she would wonder why she couldn’t stop thinking about a girl she supposedly hated.
High school was fun.
One night, Carla took Monica to see a sludge metal band, and all Monica could focus on was how the deep rumbling bass seemed to pull Carla to the floor and whip her back. So she stood behind her and draped her arms over her shoulders and held on, letting herself be pulled down too.
What people didn’t know about Monica was that she was weird. She had to perform a specific way to make it in the world, but Carla could see it. She would pause movies to complain about the cinematography and how she could do such a better job of framing that shot. I mean really, what is it, your first day? She was mean, but only to people who deserved it, like no-name cinematographers from Bulgaria.
When Monica was younger, she wanted to be an architect, but then she started college and realized that being an architect was the most thankless job imaginable, and making a living wage was basically impossible. She told Carla about all of this, and Carla said that she liked Brutalist architecture. Monica said that she would, since she believes that people deserve to suffer. Monica then explained how architecture and fashion were weirdly similar. Everything was about lines and movement.
It was still just fucking, though.
Once Monica bought a strap-on but then she just stomped around Carla’s apartment wearing it while she complained about work and being jerked around by forces so much bigger than she was. Then they fucked in the kitchen and it was so weird how calming it was.
When they went out to bars or to shows, Monica would get hit on and Carla would put on an act where she was super enthusiastic about the guy and would get super clingy towards him until he got freaked out and ran away. It always worked.
Monica loved going to shows with Carla because it was one of the few times that she was genuinely enthusiastic and not cloaked under protective layers of sarcasm. Do you know the one girl at every show who lets out a blood-curdling scream when the band plays her favorite song? That girl is Carla. Every time. And the music wasn’t Monica’s thing at all, but as it turns out, Carla was.
Once they were at a hardcore show and a guy grabbed Carla and she punched him in the face, then she proudly held up her bloody knuckles to Monica and smiled. If there was one single moment that summed up Carla, that was probably it. If Monica could point to a single moment to show when she fell in love with Carla, that was probably it too.
They had been exclusive for a long time, but they didn’t talk about it. One night, they were laying in Monica’s bed and she decided to broach the subject.
“This is going to sound like a stupid question, but like…what are we?” Monica asked.
“Pretty fucking gay, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, but I mean, what is this? Let me ask you, are you seeing anybody else?”
“No. My choices are pretty much between you and Dinesh or Gilfoyle, so,” Carla said.
“Would you, though?”
“Depends on who it was.” Carla was avoiding the real question. “I don’t know. Who says this has to be anything?”
“Do you like me though?” Monica felt so weird asking that kind of question.
“I don’t think my mouth would be the places it’s been if I didn’t like you. Why, do you like me?” Then she stopped herself. “Are we in high school?”
“Feels like it,” Monica said.
“Well, what do you want? Do you want to date? Do you want to meet my parents? What’s the difference? Like, what, materially, would be different?”
“When guys hit on me, I could tell them I had a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, and then they’ll just ask to threesome. You know that shit never works.” Carla said.
“I guess I’d also have to tell Jared, who has spent months gushing about us being in love.”
“Yeah, see?”
Carla had no idea what this was. It never occurred to her to want more, because what more was there to have? She loved Monica, in the way that she loved fast hardcore, and messing with people and killing at engineering. She was another thing on the list.
The difference was that Monica was the only one that could potentially leave, and that was where things got weird.
“I’m confused though,” Carla said. “Are we not sort of like, already dating?”
“Are we?”
“Well, I mean, two weeks ago you got elbowed in the chest trying to get out of a mosh pit that I started and then you slept at my apartment afterwards and we didn’t even bone.”
Monica laughed.
“And it was awesome,” Carla said.
“Yeah, but if I had to go to some fancy, like stupid-fancy investor’s dinner or something, would you go to that?”
Carla sighed dramatically.
“I mean, obviously. I look fucking good when I’m dolled up, I couldn’t let you miss out on that.”
So that answered that.
There wasn’t a moment when Carla fell in love with Monica. That wasn’t how things worked. Things just happened over and over and got deeper. But then you were dating, and maybe saying it would ruin it, but either way, it was cool.