God damn you, Kenny McCormick. Is the reason walking in on you screwing my friends makes me mad because I wish it was me you were screwing? I sighed, pacing around Stark's Pond. No, of course not. I was still hung up over Stan, right? Oh, fuck Stan. Probably the only reason I knew everything I did about Kenny was because Stan had come out a few months ago and broken up with me, the asshole. He was gay for Kyle, of course, so I couldn't get sympathy from him. The day Cartman gives anyone comfort is the day a rat crawls out my ass, and none of my girl friends had any experience with this crap. The last thing I expected was Kenny to befriend me, though. He was my shoulder to cry on. When his brother died, I was his. I was the only one who knew just how often he had sex because he trusted me.

"Hey, Wendy." Kenny said quietly, walking towards me.

"Afternoon, Kenneth." I said. "Ready for the healing?"

"What are you, my therapist?" He snorts.

"Take a look at the situation, hm? You tell me."

Kenny grins faintly.

"See, this is why you and I can be friends, Wendy."

"I'm glad you can say that, Kenneth. I believe you have too much sex. It can't be good for you, and it can't be good for the girls you screw." It can't be very good for me, either. "So I've decided it's high time you find yourself a real relationship. An intimate, non-sexual one. You need to fall in love."

Kenny stared at me like I'd just sprouted a second head.

"Dude, how the fuck am I supposed to fall in love? I only know how to fall in lust."

I couldn't help but snort. At least he admits it.

"That's where I come in. Who's the girl that's known precisely what love is and how to recognize it since third grade?"

"Fair point. Okay, how do we get me to fall in love?"

I took Kenny's shoulders and gave him a smile.

"Kenneth, my friend, leave it to me."

I led Kenny back to my house, where I snuck him into my room through the window. If my dad knew I let a boy in our home, he would kill me. I'm not even exaggerating.

"Okay. Before you can actually love, first you have to learn how to love. Hang on a second." I got on my computer and pulled up a few pictures. "What do you think when you see this photo of Scarlett Johansson?"

Kenny grinned a wide, toothy grin, then covered it up.

"Um..." He said.

"Be completely honest." I demanded.

"Well..." Kenny rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd totally bang her..." He admitted quickly.

"Alright. Now what do you think when you see this photo of Jennifer Lawrence?"

"I'm all for a threesome with her and Peeta."

I snorted. This time, instead of pulling up another picture, I reach down into my desk's basket and pull out the sophmore yearbook. I flip to our class and point to each girl.

"Lizzy."

"Ultra-sexy."

"Heidi."

"Perfect."

I kept going, skipping over myself, and for every girl he had a different synonym for 'hot'. At the end of the book, I flipped back to myself and pointed to the photo.

"That's you, Wendy." He says, puzzled.

"I know. I want to know what you think when you see me."

"I think of my friend Wendy, who's making me very uncomfortable by staring at me like that."

I paused a moment and shook my head. Every single girl he thought was hot. Every girl he wanted to bang again. Except me. I was the only girl who wasn't attractive in the eyes of Kenny McCormick.

"Alright. It looks like we've got a lot to work out. It's clear the first thing you look at in a girl is her boobs." I said quietly.

"Wendy, are you-" Suddenly, there was a rapping on the door.

"Dinner's ready, dear! Come on down!" My mom called.

"We'll talk tomorrow. Climb out through the window." I muttered. "Be right there, Mom!"

I watched Kenny crawl through the window, and once he was gone, I jumped down the stairs to the dinner table.

God fucking dammit.