I’m drunk. Let’s just get that out of the way.
The night was supposed to be simple. See Zombieland and then go for drinks. I didn’t account for derailments. I should have. I really fucking should have. I should have detailed escape routes planned out by now. I should have emergency exits. I should have up to plan D ready and waiting. Why don’t I? Why do I always think it will all just work out?
The movie is amazing. Just so you know. I was prepared. I brought snacks. We shared them and I tried to ignore his elbow on the armrest and his whispers in my ear. I told myself we are just friends because we are. Doesn’t matter that we made out. We are just friends, now. I laughed at him when he admitted he was afraid of clowns. He laughed at me when I jumped so predictably. I ignored the outline of his jaw in the dark. I ignored the brush of his hand.
At the bar his friend came to meet us. Half-way through the night he slipped into my booth, the friend. He kissed me and then kept his hand on my leg whether or not I would pull away. His friend got drunk and said something stupid about something implying something disrespectful that he might have said. I locked eyes with him as the friend rambled on and tried to backtrack. I dared him to make a stand but he never did. They never do. I’m pretty sure it was all the friend’s bullshit but that’s not the point. The point is here I am in a sketchy bar with two guys and why? For what?
This is my life. This is my life tumbling down cliff edges. This is my life sidestepping. This is my life moving from one broken heart to another and this is my head on his shoulder as he drives me home. Apologizing for his friend. Patting my knee as I cry silently. What am I doing here?
I don’t know. I don’t know. I want to go home.
Pheonix – 1901