Experienced journalist, Ms. Ophelia Baulls, is back with another expose on the modern BTSH Lady. We hope you enjoy the feature.

By Ophelia Baulls
Photos by Fonda Cox

I was in the bathtub with some quaaludes and Epsom salt when the BTSH ladies called in quite the state. It took me a few minutes to wade through the hysteria, but on the other side, I realized that there was yet another deep dive to be done. In the quest for love and intimacy (something every woman needs even more than a bidet), the women realized that they had all been carelessly cast aside. But what’s even more intriguing, they were cast aside by the same philanderer.

Apparently, there’s the ideal of a perfect woman motivating this guy to churn through ladies faster than my mother through a case of chardonnay – we’ll call him Johnny Rehab to protect his anonymity. But he reportedly wears only a black shirt, with a red logo, and his standard is almost unachievable. Before I say anymore, I’ll let the story unfold in the words of the victims.



Amber Dawn: Oh, h’ok. Yeah. Swipe left now motherfucker? Wish you’d done that 8 months ago inside of swiping straight ahead with your goddamn crayon sized…

Ophelia: Okay I’m sensing a lot of emotion here, Amber.

Amber Dawn: AMBER DAWN

Ophelia: Yes, sorry. You really were taken in by Johnny, it seems. I’m sympathetic to the delicate state you now find yourself in…

Amber Dawn: I can’t really talk about it yet, I just hope that — when Crystal Jean arrives — she has more sense than her mama.

Ophelia: We’ll leave it there for now. You’re in our prayers.

Amber Dawn: Whatever



Ophelia: Channing, you come from good stock. I’ll get right to it – how on earth did you fall for this guy?

Channing: Life was a bowl of cherries, Ophelia, until Johnny tarnished my sterling silver world.  He was so perfect I thought he would blend right into the family mural. I led a blue ribbon existence, I’m a pedigree, no one has ever turned down this bloodline. I had my breasts INSURED for fuck’s sake. My shoes cost more than your parents’ house. I DECIDE. I swipe left on YOU motherfucker, you piece of…piece of…

Ophelia: Channing? Channing?! Someone call a medic she’s out.



Ophelia: Sloane, tell m….

Sloane: YOU think I had fucking time for this? I’M ON TOKYO TIME. I run shit. I finish things. I got the check. My bras close in the front because that’s 10 more seconds of my life I don’t have to spend waiting for a man to figure shit out. Do you understand me? He will never work in this town again.  Oh, his shit got audited? That’s weird. Gomen nasai.

Ophelia: You were upset, it’s okay to feel…well, alright, Sloane apparently needed to head out and has exited through the ground floor window. It was closed. She seems ok from what I can tell.

Sloane: [distant shout] FINE...just scratches. Not a bleeder.



Rayanne: I can be kind of a bad bitch. I know that. I get straight to the point, and I take my shot. He didn’t leave me, I left him, but I had no choice.

Ophelia: Do I detect a bit of hurt under that steely facade, Rayanne? You know, Deepak Chopra says your weaknesses can end up being strengths if you embrace them.


Ophelia: …Rayanne can you hear me?

Rayanne: Mmmm yes, sorry, I fell asleep with my eyes open. The lithium does that to me sometimes.



Ophelia: Cindi, I’m not going to mince words. This isn’t the easiest set of interviews I’ve conducted. Please just go ahead and tell me your story, and try to stay calm.

Cindi: I thought God was my co-pilot and had led me to my perfect Tinder match. But when we got together, he – Johnny – kept asking how I felt about full body contact, and driving into the crease. He asked if he could pass behind the net, and that’s when I started to seem like this relationship was going to be a “give and go.” I guess…I guess it all just started to feel like the first half of Dateline. Lately, I’ve been home with a lot of Haagen-Daaz, Joel Osteen, and this neck massager my sister loves…

Ophelia: That will do.



Ophelia: Ma’am, I didn’t catch your name?

Unidentified match: Wait he SUPERLIKED ME???? Yeahhhhhh. FUCK yeah.



Ophelia: Hey there Lul…

Lulu: SO we went out to dinner and he didn’t want to order dessert first and I was like THAT WAS WEIRD and then we came up to my apartment and he refused to let me be the gumdrop princess in Candy Land and I was like WHAT THE FUDGE and then he asked me about my stickhandling and I was like IS THAT PART OF THE CANDY CANE FOREST but really I started to think maybe my sugarplum was just a sour grape and he can just go pound sand while I…

Ophelia: Okay, okay I think I have enough information here, and I’m overdue for a colonic and a percocet. I think we can wrap this up with consensus that this Johnny fella is bad news. If it’s any comfort, I heard a rumor that he has run out of matches and was struggling for a date a few weekends ago. Lulu, thank you for your time.  

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