Sunday, 5 December 2010

Another night, another few stories

I have never felt less like writing these fucking 750 words. They mean nothing now and will mean nothing in the future.

This is not me being dramatic, it's just the truth. It seems that nothing we do matters in the grand scheme of things. We're as insignificant as the next person.

I think these thoughts because of my nights spent on the town, my body put out for people to touch and tease, my thoughts dulled by the alcohol. Everything slows down and speeds up without reason and the night flashes by.

I stand in the bathroom with my hands under the drier, talking to a cute girl who I encounter again later at the bar, surrounded by four guys. One is clearly gay and I feel the pressing urge to tell the rest of their crowd that. Oh, haven't officially come out yet? Umm...I feel bad. I blew him a kiss across the dance floor later, the lights reflecting on my hair and luminous face.

And suddenly there's another guy who is behind me as I move against him, grinding like it will save me, dancing to the beat without caring. He kisses my lips and neck and tries to hang on to me but I'm like sand on the beach, trickling through your fingers, and I slide away and move across the crowded floor, pushing my way through bodies.

Bodies dancing and grinding and trying to find someone to matter to. We all are just these bodies, husks of our true selves, buried down, tamped away.

I'm moving on to some one else now. I climb the stairs to the rooftop patio and find my friend standing with a tall, very good looking man. He can read the desire in my eyes right away and Moira is edged out as we both start talking. I ask him to pull his shirt up and he does a bit reluctantly. Everything is beautiful. Moira goes downstairs and we follow suit, but we pause in the stairwell and he's two or three steps below me and we're finally on eye level. I lean in slowly and pause a centimetre from his lips and we stand there for a few seconds, the tension and lust emanating from me like the perfume Lindsay haphazardly sprayed on me before we left the apartment.

That's the moment I love. Right before jumping in, the pause, the brief waiting... And we're there on the steps, finally I lean in and kiss him gently on the lips and he doesn't pull away.

Kissing is one of my favourite things. I feel connected to something and less adrift when someone is touching me and near me, lips on lips, skin contact making everything safer and more meaningful.

He's already pulling away though and it makes sense. He can do better with that face and tall lean body, and I follow it down to the bar where we casually stand and scream into each other's ears. It's frustrating how short I am in those minutes because it feels like people are just looking at each other across the bar above my head.

A girl stands beside me at the bar and patio boy is clearing into her. She's wearing a white dress shirt that's almost completely unbuttoned, her breasts popping out, but he's not getting any from her. I lean over and start talking to her about her breasts. They're so round, white, and alluring, so I have to touch them and casually I do so.

Somehow we end up on the middle of the dance floor and we're grinding against each other and kissing and the boys are all watching but we're in our own world. It's not a show for her, I can tell. I touch her all over, running my hands down her back and up under her shirt, touching her nipples. She's enjoying herself and patio boy is in the bathroom so I don't care. I want him more than anything but she's cute and feels soft and curvy.

I glance over and he's back at the bar. I see other guys that I kissed tonight (four in total) and it's a bit strange to walk past them after that, but kissing is just kissing and means nothing but a brief moment of pleasure. I'm confused by the guys and their lack of interest in extensive making out. I'm ready to take my clothes off and get dirrty but they want to drink more alcohol and survey the room.

I leave the girl, promising I'll be back, and go back to patio boy. His cousin leans against me and promises he can rock my world more than patio boy. He laughs at me and tells me nothing is going to happen. I know this somehow. I'm not hot enough. So I turn and walk out of the room, back to the coat check and out on the street.

Walking down the street a car stops and pulls into a parking lot and the driver accosts me. He's a light brown guy and I can only think of "C", and to be honest, that was all that mattered to me all night. I would rather have been curled up in Sarah's single bed, pushed right against him from lack of space, spooning and cuddling. Instead, I'm out on the town trying to find someone who will care enough or care at all.

The guy in the car is trying to pick me up and I'm angry about the entire night. Will I ever been thin and good looking enough to tempt anyone? All my insecurities seem to come crashing down on me, leaving me desperate, like a trapped animal trying to break free. Even though we do whatever we can to be free, we never really are. It's a burden we carry for the rest of our lives.

I'm even loaded enough to say so to him. Awful night, I got no action, I'll never be thin enough, and he looks amused but derisive about my words, as if I'm speaking in another language. All he sees is the giant boobs and thigh high boots. I see spots of acne, stomach flab, chunky thighs, and a stubby nose.

And I walk away, alone down the street. I'm not sure why I'm walking but I think I should find a cab. I walk into a convenience store and ask them if there are any cabs around and the man goes outside with me and walks up to a little window. Apparently we're at the taxi depot and he raps on the window, the lady sitting in the small space orders me a cab, and I stand in the frigid cold and think of how life is so confusing.

The taxi driver is young and good looking and tells me his girlfriend cheated on him. It's apparent that we all get fucked over by people throughout our lives. Once you accept that as inevitable, you can really start living your life without fear.

I wake up on Lindsay's couch and my keys and camera are both missing. Nothing matter any more though. Life is just going to continue along and I will get new keys, or find the old ones somewhere, and I wanted a new camera anyway.

The night is already history and matters nothing and the future looks a bit colder right now. We try to find ourselves in people around us, try to make our lives matter, struggle to make a difference. I'll fight on, for whatever it's worth.

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