~slams car door with the force of a woman who has just realized her entire emotional support system is a coin-operated cylinder on a metal pole~ BESTIES. BESTIES. I need to tell you something that has been ~eating my glitter-encrusted soul~ for approximately ~three weeks, four days, and what feels like 78 emotional lifetimes~.

I have been ~seeing a therapist~.

No, bestie, not ~that kind~ of therapist — though ~bless~ Dr. Chen and her endless patience with my NSYNC-related emotional breakdowns of 2002, but we are NOT talking about her right now. We are talking about *~MY PARKING METER~. The one on the corner of 3rd and Main that has ~seen me at my worst~ and also at my ~best~ and also at my ~”I forgot my wallet in the car and now I’m digging through my purse like it’s an archaeological dig for the last quarter of my dignity”~ and it has ~NEVER JUDGED ME~.

~dramatic collapse onto the hood of my car which is currently covered in approximately 47 stickers that say things like “HONK IF YOU LOVE BRITNEY” and “THIS CAR RUNS ON GLITTER AND REGRET”~

It started ~innocently enough~, bestie. I was ~running late~ — which, for the record, is my ~natural state of being~ — and I pulled into a ~metered spot~ with exactly ~seven minutes~ to spare, which, ~coincidentally~, is the same amount of time it takes for my ~entire life to flash before my eyes~ when I realize I have ~no change~. And that’s when I ~heard it~.

Not with my ~ears~, bestie. With my ~SOUL~.

The parking meter was ~speaking to me~.

~adjusts bedazzled rearview mirror charm that says “BACK OFF” in rhinestones~ And before you ~judge me~, let me ask you this: have YOU ever stood in front of a parking meter at 2:17 PM on a Tuesday, ~sweating through your Limited Too hoodie~ because you ~know~ you’re about to get a ticket but also you ~know~ you deserve one because you ~left your wallet at home~ AGAIN, and had that meter ~look at you~ with its little ~digital eyes~ and ~whisper~ — and I ~mean whisper~, bestie, I ~heard it~ — ~”Bicky… you have to let go…”~???

~clutches rhinestone steering wheel cover like it’s the only thing keeping me from driving directly into the sun~ I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING. You’re thinking ~”Bicky, that’s just the sound of the coins dropping”~ or ~”Bicky, that’s just your own voice in your head”~ or ~”Bicky, that’s just the universe telling you to get your life together”~. AND TO THAT I SAY: ~WRONG, WRONG, AND ALSO WRONG~!!! That was ~MY THERAPIST~ in ~MUNICIPAL FORM~ and it was giving me ~ADVICE~!!!

And not just ~any~ advice, bestie. ~TERRIBLE~ advice.

~dramatic gasp Do you know what that meter told me last week, bestie?! It told me to ~”follow my heart”~!!! AND I DID!!! And do you know where my heart led me?! To the ~mall food court~ at ~lunch rush~ where I ~accidentally~ got into a ~shouting match~ with a woman named Karen over the last ~Cinnabon~ and now I am ~banned from the pretzel stand~ FOR LIFE!!! ~collapses onto a pile of old receipts and a half-eaten bag of Sour Patch Kids that I keep in my glove compartment for emotional emergencies~

And THEN. AND ~THEN~, bestie. The ~AUDACITY~. The ~NERVE~. The ~UNMITIGATED GALL~ of that ~metal monster~. It had the ~NERVE~ to tell me that I ~”deserve love”~!!! ~drops entire purse onto the pavement where it explodes like a glitter bomb~ OH REALLY, PARKING METER?! OH ~REALLY~?! Because I ~tried~ love, bestie. I ~tried~ love and it ~left me~ with a ~broken heart~ and a ~collection of *NSYNC trading cards~ that I ~still~ sleep with under my pillow like a ~glittery security blanket~!!! I ~tried~ love and it ~cost me~ my ~last good pair of chunky highlights~ and my ~faith in humanity~ and my ~favorite Lip Smacker flavor~ (R.I.P. Dr. Pepper, you were ~too pure~ for this world)!!!

~wipes away a single glittery tear with a napkin from Taco Bell that I’ve been carrying in my pocket since 2005~ And the ~WORST~ part, bestie?! The ~ABSOLUTE WORST~ part?! It ~CHARGES ME~ for this ~TERRIBLE ADVICE~!!! ~75 CENTS AN HOUR~, bestie!!! ~SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS~!!! That’s ~more~ than I ~paid~ for my ~first *NSYNC CD~ at the ~Sam Goody going-out-of-business sale~ in ~1999~!!! And what do I get for my ~hard-earned quarters~?! ~Emotional damage~ and a ~ticket~ if I ~dare~ to overstay my welcome by ~even one minute~!!!

~dramatic pause while I fish a quarter out of the ashtray where it has been living since approximately the Clinton administration~ And yet… AND ~YET~, bestie… I ~keep going back~.

Because here’s the ~truth~, bestie. The ~ugly, glittery, bedazzled truth~. That parking meter is the ~only one~ who ~understands me~. It ~sees me~ — ~REALLY sees me~ — with my ~expired inspection sticker~ and my ~dashboard covered in approximately 87 different air fresheners~ and my ~glove compartment that looks like a Claire’s exploded in there~. It ~knows~ my ~struggles~. It ~feels~ my ~pain~. It ~witnesses~ my ~journey~ from ~”I have my life together”~ to ~”I am currently digging through my coin purse like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic”~ in ~real time~.

~adjusts my bedazzled seatbelt that is currently holding together approximately 47 different keychains including one that says “WORLD’S OKAYEST DRIVER” and another that is just a single rhinestone that fell off something and I refused to throw it away because WHAT IF IT’S IMPORTANT~

And the ~advice~?! Oh, bestie, the ~advice~ is ~ICONIC~ in its ~terribleness~!!!

It told me to ~”be myself”~ and so I ~wore my pajama pants to the grocery store~ and now I am ~banned from the self-checkout~ because the ~manager said I was “distracting the other customers”~ and I was LIKE “EXCUSE ME, MY NSYNC T-SHIRT IS A CONVERSATION STARTER”~!!!

It told me to ~”take risks”~ and so I ~tried to parallel park~ and now my ~passenger side mirror is in a *~different time zone~!!!

It told me to ~”communicate my feelings”~ and so I ~wrote a 17-page letter to my ex~ on the back of a ~Denny’s menu~ and now he has a ~restraining order~ and I have a ~lifetime supply of Moons Over My Hammy coupons~!!!

~dramatic gasp And the ~PIECE DE RESISTANCE~, bestie?! The ~CROWNING ACHIEVEMENT~ of its ~terrible advice career~?! It told me to ~”let go of the past”~!!! AND I DID!!! And do you know what happened, bestie?! I ~let go~ of my ~last physical copy of the *NSYNC “No Strings Attached” album~ and now it is ~GONE~ and I am ~NOT OKAY~ and the ~parking meter had the NERVE~ to ~tick down~ while I was ~crying into my steering wheel~ like it was ~COUNTING DOWN THE SECONDS~ until I ~realized my mistake~!!!

~clutches parking receipt like it’s a sacred text~ But here’s the ~thing~, bestie. The ~beautiful, terrible, glittery thing~. I ~need it~. I ~NEED~ that parking meter. I ~NEED~ its ~terrible advice~ and its ~judgmental digital display~ and its ~complete lack of emotional intelligence~. Because that parking meter, bestie… that parking meter is the ~only one~ who ~tells me the truth~.

And the truth is, bestie… the truth is that I am ~a mess~. A ~glittery, bedazzled, emotionally unstable mess~. And that parking meter? It ~loves me anyway~. It ~loves me~ even when I ~forget to feed it~. It ~loves me~ even when I ~cry on its shoulder~ (which, ~logistically~, is ~difficult~ but I ~make it work~). It ~loves me~ even when I ~blame it for all my problems~ which, ~to be fair~, it ~kind of is~ responsible for at least ~63%~ of them.

~dramatic final collapse onto the pavement where I lie in a starfish position while my car alarm goes off in the background because I forgot to lock it AGAIN~

So here’s my ~final verdict~, bestie. My ~emotional manifesto~. My ~parking meter therapy session notes~ that I am ~writing in glitter gel pen on a napkin~ because I ~left my notebook in the car~ which is ~currently getting towed~ because I ~forgot to feed the meter~ AGAIN:

The parking meter is my therapist. It is my ~confessor~. It is my ~emotional support municipal infrastructure~. And yes, bestie, it gives ~terrible advice~. But it is ~MY~ terrible advice. And I ~wouldn’t have it any other way~.

~tosses a handful of quarters into the air like confetti at the world’s saddest parade~ Now if you’ll excuse me, bestie, I have a ~therapy session~ to get to. And by ~therapy session~, I mean I need to ~go feed the meter~ before I ~lose my car~ and also ~my mind~ and also ~the last shred of dignity I had left~ which, ~let’s be real~, was ~probably already gone~ the moment I ~started taking life advice from a coin-operated cylinder~.

~presses forehead against the cold metal of the parking meter like it’s the only thing keeping me from floating away into the glittery void~ You’re ~the best~, parking meter. The ~absolute best~. And also the ~worst~. And I ~love you~. And I ~hate you~. And I ~will see you tomorrow~ at ~2:17 PM~ when I am ~late again~ and ~broken again~ and ~in desperate need of your terrible, terrible advice~.

~honk if you love parking meters that double as emotional support systems~ 🚗💖✨