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The only thing worse than knowing exactly where the spider is, is not knowing where the spider is at all. Because I know she’s here, in the bathroom. Is she in the tub? The sink? Exploring the drain? Is she bungee-jumping into my hair? shudder Will I accidentally step on her, and end this week-long standoff?
I continue my slow, spinning perusal of the bathroom and spot her. She’s somehow made it to the other side of the bathroom that fast! I breathe in, shut my mouth, and run underneath her as she guards the corner of escape. In the safety of my bedroom, I shut the door quickly, trapping her in the porcelain fortress.
On Monday, I noticed that there were cobwebs above me as I took a shower, wisps of gray fiber contrasting the white subway tiles. I thought maybe they’d just fallen from the high ceiling, but then yesterday, she appeared as I dried off. This morning, I bravely cleared some of her web away, but then she started skittering towards me, and I hurried out of the shower as quickly as possible.
Look, I don’t want an angry spider above me while I’m wet and naked. I’m not ready for that kind of vulnerability.
Which brings me to now. It’s time to brush my teeth, and, well, there are webs everywhere. She remains perched above the door, and I’m terrified, okay? I admit it. My masculinity is not toxic, and I can let you know that I’m scared. I grab my toiletries from the sink and shower and put my towel around my neck, dropping all of it off in the guest bathroom. I return to her lair, close the door to my en-suite, and don’t look back.
She’s won.
Following a week of my self-imposed exile, I realize Mom’s coming to visit soon. She’ll expect to have full reign over the guest room (she is the queen, after all), and I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her that I let a spider kick me out of my bathroom. So, I turn to Google.
Through a lengthy search, I find a local spider rehoming service. I don’t want her dead, okay, I just want my home to be safe from eight-legged monsters. I can even text the company, so bonus points for never having to use the phone part of my cell.
Tomorrow, Spin Me Right Round will come to rescue me my spider and all will be okay.
The next morning, a rainbow van with a black web painted on the sides pulls into the driveway. A blond person with chaotic energy jumps out of the passenger seat wearing a T-shirt that reads “Anti-Arachnophobia Cheese” with an image of the cheese emoji on it.
“Alright, are you Nick?” they ask.
“Yup, that’s me.”
“Awesome! I’m Darcy! First, have some anti-arachnophobia cheese….” They hand me a piece of aged cheddar. “Now, take us to see this big scary spider, as you put it.”
Us? Darcy’s buoyancy had so thrown me off that I didn’t notice the driver exit the car. He’s got blue eyes, curly dark hair, dimples…and he’s wearing a skin-tight Spiderman costume without the mask. I manage not to mutter “I think I’ve had this fantasy before” aloud, but it’s close.
“Hi!” I bleat at this gorgeous human.
“Hi,” he whispers back. He clears his throat. “I’m Charlie.”
“I’m Nick,” I respond.
“I know,” he says, smirking at me. His eyes linger on my form as he takes in my “bisexual disaster” muscle T. I hold my arm up to shepherd them over the front steps, and Charlie seems to stutter at the sight of my exposed armpit. Interesting.
Once inside, I offer them a glass of water and ask if the temperature is too warm or too hot for their labor. Darcy regards me with a wink, “I’m an absolute lesbian, but I’m sure it’s too hot in here for Charlie-boy, here.” I follow her gaze to….
Oh God.
My big sparkling purple dildo. The one I’ve Nick-named The Kraken due to its…suckers. It’s sitting on my bedside table, like a beacon of kinky debauchery. My dignity, she left long ago.
I can feel my entire face flush, and I know I’m too embarrassed for it to be cute. God, I want to be cute for Charlie. I look at Charlie in a panic, and his eyes are wide. Oh fuck. Why can’t I just be normal?
“So, um, the bathroom in question is over here,” I manage to get out via a series of squeaks. I lead them away from The Kraken and present them to the closed door.
“Uh, in there?” Darcy asks.
“Yeah, it’s been closed off for a week. I’ve been using the guest bath instead.”
“Wow, is it venomous? A wolf spider or something? A very lost Brown Recluse?” Darcy asks, head tilted. They look at Charlie, who grabs some gloves from a bag. Charlie hands them over to his partner and starts pulling his hair back — oh God — into a headband. I bite my fist, and Charlie smiles at me.
“Um, venomous?! I don’t know!” I haven’t spoken in my normal octave since I saw Charlie, I swear.
“Hmmm. Well, we’ll get our safety gear on just in case,” Darcy reassures Nick.
Charlie reaches into his bag and pulls out a clear container. The two exchange a glance and open the door.
Dusty cobwebs welcome them, and I hide my large frame behind Charlie.
The two step across the threshold, and I keep to the safety of my bedroom, reaching my neck out to get a peek.
Charlie starts giggling. Oh God.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s a daddy long-legs, Nick!” Darcy laughs, quickly stuffing the offending horror into the container.
“Oh.” I feel my entire body deflate.
“It’s okay to be afraid of spiders,” Charlie offers, hand reassuring on my bicep.
“I’m not afraid of spiders, I just don’t want them falling on me. Or biting me. Or touching me.” Then I shudder. “I mean, most of the time I spent with her I was naked or not wearing pants.” I need to shut up.
Charlie regards me carefully and reaches for my hair. His eyes seek my consent, and I nod stupidly in return. He starts pawing at the strands and rubbing my scalp. I let out an embarrassing moan, and he stops. He looks at me steadily and says “no spiders in your hair.”
I shriek.
It is not cool. I am not cool.
Charlie’s calm mask falls, and he starts laughing, doubled over in hysterics. His laugh is beautiful, but I’m feeling very exposed right now.
I pout at him, and he straightens up. With a crooked grin he mutters, “Sorry, I had to….”
I clamp my lips together and breathe out sharply through my nose — I must look like an angry Leslie Knope (Bisexual ICON) — and I try to glare at him. I crack. And then I double over in laughter myself.
Darcy brings the spider out to the van and reappears with a tablet. “I feel kind of bad charging you $150 for a daddy long-legs, but you did request the Special Package.”
“Special Package?” I mutter.
Darcy smirks. “Two of us, full gear, dangerous spider….” They trail off.
“Oh, of course!” I grab my phone and tap-to-pay. “Um, do I tip for this service? I don’t have any cash.” I pat my non-existent pockets to demonstrate.
“Charlie takes tips on his Venmo, don’t you, Charlie?” Darcy slaps him on the back and pushes him towards Nick. “That’s ‘CharlieIsGayAndIntoYou’ for the Venmo. His cell number is 617-GAY-NERD if you need to confirm it.”
“Darcy!” Charlie hisses.
“Oh?” I think for a minute. “Ohhhhhh.”
Charlie blushes, and it’s pretty. Like him. Darcy walks back towards the van, and Charlie and I just look at each other.
“Thank you for saving me, Charlie. How can I thank you for being my hero?”
Big blue eyes widen in front of me. “Um,” he pauses. “Any way you like, Nick.” His bravado is so hot.
“Can I kiss you, Charlie?”
“Yeah,” he breathes.
My hands act first — one reaches out to pull the headband back and release those curls and then bury itself in the silky coils; the other cups his chin with a devout thumb while fingers splay along his cheekbones. His breath halts momentarily before he starts closing the distance between us.
His soft lips brush mine, and I melt into the touch. We reangle our heads, tilting into each other, until he pulls back. I chase his lips with my own, and then we’re kissing again, but less chastely. The hand on his face moves down to his hip, slippery against the polyester blend of his spider suit. I can feel every divot of his lean hips and stomach, including the lack of underwear. I inhale sharply, and he pulls me against him. We continue kissing, exploring, touching, until the front door swings open.
“CHARLIE BOY! Time to go! That hotty repeat customer Tara has a spider in her boudoir!” Darcy shouts as we jump apart.
Charlie slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand as I trace the feeling of his lingering lips along my own.
“Is 617-GAY-NERD really your number?” I ask, dazed.
He nods affirmatively. “I have to go, Nick. I’m sorry.” His voice is soft, and his eyes are so wide, and so blue.
“Bye, Charlie.”
“Bye, Nick.”
One year later
“Hey Char, can you get that spider under the sink for me?”
“You’re just with me for my spider skills, aren’t you, Nick?”
“You know I love that you’re my hero!” I call after his pert ass as he stoops under the sink.
Once he’s vanquished my eight-legged nemesis, he stands behind me from my seat on the couch.
“Char! We need to do the thing!” I whine in glee.
He rolls his eyes and plants a big upside down kiss on me.
My Spider-Man.