If there were two things any person should know about Sandra Shay, they're these. The first is that she has dreamed of true love since she was a kid. The second was that she vehemently rejected this fact daily.

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She and I have been best friends since we were fourteen, having met under now-unfortunate circumstances. She was blonde, dainty, shy. The epitome of a Disney princess. After the first few visits, I came to know the foul-mouthed, sharp-shooting, wild child that rested underneath all that. The polarity was one of the main reasons that she was so lovable.

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Sandy has called me every day since February, whether on her way home from work or over the weekend. Her calls often detailed the juicy gossip of the day’s unravelled events, peppered through with remarks about work and how much she despised her job.

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“I just don’t understand why they need to push everyone else’s work onto me. They’re not even trying to hire new staff, which is ridiculous, considering we’ve had three resignations over the last two weeks, and Mary-Anne is set to pop with baby number two any second.”

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Mary-Anne seemed like she’d been pregnant for an eternity with the way Sandy commented on it every night. The fact that, according to Sandy, she’s working up until her due date is an insane concept to think about.

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Sandy gasps on the other end of the line. “Oh my God, girl, I completely forgot to tell you about this!”

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That was the indicator whenever you spoke to Sandy. That emphasised girl was enough to straighten your spine and perk your ears. I could see her face now. Her blush-pink lips pursed into an O, her green eyes widened to the size of large grapes, her eyebrows shot so high anyone would fear them disappearing into her hairline. That one sentence said, ‘sit your ass down and grab some popcorn: the show is about to begin’.

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Her rejection of true love came in the form of her dating habits. Particularly her habit of chasing hookups on apps. It was always fun to hear about, even if I did know that wasn’t what she actually wanted.

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I let her know that I’m ready, and she releases a deep sigh. “Well…”

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She then speaks so quickly that I have to slow it down in my mind. She tells me that White Carlos Sainz (whose real name is Nathan) is resigning. Nathan has been Sandy’s work crush for months now and she has only really considered him attractive ever since her horrendous break-up with Seven Years (whose real name is Mitchell). Sandy has had a complicated relationship with Nathan since the night they made out at the pub after their work function.  His resignation was putting more of a strain on their ‘situationship’.

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She then went into extensive detail about how Nathan hadn't even told her that he was resigning and how that was just further proof that he was moving further away from whatever connection they had. I tried to explain to her that maybe he’s just stressed, but she’d already thought ahead about that. He apparently had enough time to tell the entire office except her. She wondered if maybe it was so her feelings wouldn’t get hurt, but she said that it hurt more that she hadn't been told.

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I knew she would get attached, and I reiterated that to her. Sandy listened, but she was often in denial. You could give her advice, but she alone made the final decision. It’s what was both so admirable and so frustrating about her. I choose to see it as admirable, since she really does love with her whole chest and pursues every endeavour by her life motto: for the plot.

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She let out a defeated sigh, acknowledging that I was right. That’s what made it all the more admirable; she could acknowledge when she was wrong. She said that she got attached, that she could see herself being in a relationship with him, that she so desperately wanted to see him every day and now that he was leaving, she was worried.

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Like a frog hopping from one lily pad to the next, she suddenly mentioned that Narcissist (whose real name is Morgan) messaged her again.

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I groaned.

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“I know, I know,” she stammers.

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“I thought we were over this, Sandy!”

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She goes through her usual spiel of excuses. But he’s so hot. But he’s written me poetry. But he’s let me stay in his parents’ multi-million-dollar penthouse with rooftop access to the pool.

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Today’s key excuse was that she received another mile-long poem. She shot it over to me. I stole glances at my phone, trying to catch the words.

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He seemed to have captured the vision of a true princess when he wrote about her. The way that her hair was perfectly straight and fell like strands of sunlight. The way she had a fire burning inside of her that could rival the sun and the stars. The way her face shone like the moon when she beamed with happiness.

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I could almost forgive him, but then the other stanzas made me gag. He could be so crass about their intimate encounters that it churned my stomach in the wrong direction.  She had often called me crying about how Morgan called her vulgar words. I seriously considered booking an interstate ticket just to punch him after he called her a slut.

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She was transfixed though, remarking at how lovely some of the lines were. I could hear the hesitation in her voice, that slight tremor in her throat when she spoke about him. It’s always hard to tell as an outsider what kind of hold a narcissist has on their victims unless you’re in their shoes. From the outside, he seemed like the perfect guy: good-looking, charming, generous, romantic. He's the carrot that dangles over Sandy’s head. But when the stick cracks down, she comes to me crying.  Just visualising the metaphorical welts on her body hurts me.

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Nathan and Morgan were so different, and I think that can be narrowed down to the circumstances surrounding how they met. Nathan seemed like a genuinely sweet guy despite the fact that he and Sandy were just hooking up. They had had the time and space to develop a relationship. Morgan, on the other hand, was some guy she had matched with on a dating app. He was only interested in a hookup at first, but soon he seemed to latch onto Sandy. He was a leech draining her life.

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When she first got on the apps it was for fun and to get over Mitchell. That’s what happens when my pathetic, slime bag of a cousin decides to cheat after being with Sandy for seven years. She said it was for an ego boost, to see if it was worth getting out there and experimenting. She’s found a lot of success on there in terms of casual flings. She seemed really happy with it, but when she spoke about guys like Nathan, there was a glimmer of the girl that grew up on Wattpad romances and hoped for a Disney-style happily ever after. Then I think about guys like Morgan and how he’s just one in a line of many horrible stories in the rant sessions that Sandy has with me. He’s definitely the story now, but he won’t be the last in the succession. That just seemed to be the rhythm of the dating world now. Sandy casually shrugs it off, brushing it away as her just having fun. With the pain she goes through a person can’t help but wonder, is it really worth it?

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Just as she was getting to the end of her rant, the faint sound of her key slid into the lock of her house, and the door swung open on its creaky hinges. Her conversation with me got cut off as she greeted her mum and her sister. The same story would just get repeated here, so I said my goodbyes, making sure to remind her how much I love her. She gave me the same reply before hanging up, and I listened to the dial tones end our conversation until the following night.