“Will you go home with me?”
I stood in front of her and petted her bangs, heavily exhaling 6 hours of fermentations on her face. Her hair was BEAUTIFUL. I stared at her fringe all night and this was the first conversation that didn’t start with me asking about her hair. “Did you cut your bangs that angle on purpose?” “I love how the curve shows off your eyebrow.” “Have I met you before? Did you have curly hair?”
She said “thank you” over and over again and maybe was a little uncomfortable. She tried to change the conversation.
“The chain link fence is casting the most striking shadows across your face. I wish you could see them. If you think my bangs are beautiful, you need to look at yourself right now.”
I was so drunk. I don’t know what she was talking about and just said, “Okaaaaaaaay. Whatever you saaaaaay.”
She grabbed my arms and spun me around to where she was standing and took over my spot. “See? Look at my face. Look at all the mini diamonds. That’s what I saw on you just a moment ago. You were beautiful. You ARE beautiful.”
He was holding me upright. I don’t know why he was concerned about that now. Two hours ago he was dipping me, spinning me, and lifting me. I was in every position but upright. We danced so hard and for so long and I didn’t puke. And he was a HORRIBLE dancer. I was a human tetherball, being whacked back and forth, from one position to the next. He was definitely trying to spin me around something, but I don’t know what.
Right before we started dancing I made out with an old friend. I don’t get to see this friend too often because he lives far and has a family, but when we’re together it’s simple and right. I’m so into him. He’s a family man with an edge. The distressed, torn jeans hide a duct tape wallet that’s filled with pictures of his wife and kids. There’s nothing sexier.
He held me tight and firm. Instead of spinning me around or dipping me or trying to impress me, he just squeezed my waist and pushed my groin into his while sucking traces of the liquor sampler left in my mouth.
Then the other guy swooped right in and that’s how all the hard dancing began. I made out with him, too, but he started it. Nothing about us dancing or making out was natural. Everything about him was awkward and new. I don’t know if he had ever danced or kissed a girl before. He told me he had never smoked pot and he looked like he was thirty something.
Occasionally I caught glances from the rest of the group. They were all watching and laughing amongst themselves. Probably about me and this odd 80’s-esque romance scene I had gotten myself into where the ultra cool bad boy was effortless winning me over by just sitting on his barstool, drinking, watching me, and the nice, cute boy next door had to use every move in the book to distract me.
After nice boy and I left the bar and ran into the girl with the bangs, I remembered how much I wanted her earlier that night. We were all bowling and she showed up looking like she had just woken up, but with amazing hair. She made pajamas look so freakin’ hot. Everything she had on was loose and baggy and after a few bowling rounds her body temperature soared and she took off her sweater, revealing a tight, braless tank.
When we left the bowling alley to head to the bar I gave her a big hug and asked if I could take her home with me. She laughed.
I’m so glad I asked her again because she said YES! All those banging compliments paid off! Nice boy was piiiiiiiisssed and kept on reminding me that he was going to take me home. Pajama girl chimed in that she had a car and would take care of me. I immediately grabbed her arm. “I’m going with her. Sorry. I had fun.”
Forty minutes later we got to her house. I think I slept the whole time. It didn’t feel like forty minutes – I just remember asking, “Where are we?” and she said, “Forty minutes from where we were.”
We were both beat. We sat on her sofa and she took out her laptop and asked, “Wanna see my kids?” “Sure.” My eyes could barely stay open. But then they REALLY opened when a picture of her completely naked and masturbating filled up the screen. It only lasted a second. Was I dreaming? She scrolled through more pictures of her son and daughter. I must’ve been dreaming.
“Wait, wait, wait. Did I see what I thought I saw?” “Yeah, sorry. I’m kinda lazy and don’t really organize my pictures.”
We fell asleep. At 4 am I woke up and left my ex a voicemail of me singing a negro spiritual.
He responded with a text picture of him penetrating some chick.
It’s officially over.