However, he just put his hand on my leg. We're at a party at his friend's house. His friend, Ryan, the attractive one, invited Jerusalem over, and did not expect me. It was awkward when he saw me at the door. I'm not quite a part of their friend group, but they can't kick me out. Now we're all sitting at the table, and I'm kind of an unexpected surprise, so I'm squeezed in between Jerusalem and Rodney, the gay guy (I tell you, everyone is stereotypes here) and Jerusalem just edged his fingers between skin and skirt. I'm not sure what we're eating, but most of the guests are guys, so the food is disappearing like there's a famine. It looks to be a cheesy concoction of something that looks vaguely potatoed. I haven't eaten anything, really. I drank a soda. It might have been diet. Nobody seemed to know or care. I have to watch what I drink, because I'm diabetic. The good kind. I say that to people, and they look at me like "There's a good kind?" Yeah. There's a good kind, but Jerusalem isn't even looking at me while his hand keeps trying to find Valhalla. I'm laughing at Rodney's joke. I think he has a crush on Ryan, but won't say it because it would ruin the group dynamic. I'm only kind of sorry for him. I have my own problems, because Jerusalem's hand is making it really difficult not to squirm. He's just poking around blindly. It's doing nothing for me. I stand up.
"Can somebody show me where the bathroom is?"
Rodney volunteers. He's a good guy. I grab Jerusalem's shoulder. Rodney gets it. He goes back to cracking jokes.
Rodney volunteers. He's a good guy. I grab Jerusalem's shoulder. Rodney gets it. He goes back to cracking jokes.
Jerusalem just looks up at me. "What's wrong, babe?"
"Can you show me where the bathroom is?"
"Sure. Down the hall, on the right. It's the door with the peephole." He laughs like he thinks he's clever. Anja, the girl across the table, is looking at him like she's already had him in her bed and isn't done with him. I'm disgusted and tired, so I just walk out of the dining room that doesn't want me, into the living room, and to the coat closet. I pull my shoes from the pile and put them on. I'm out the door before Anja has even the time to get up and move to my seat. I get in my car and pull out of the drive to leave tire tracks on the ground.
I'm angry, but I can't really feel it. I shouldn't be driving. The soda wasn't diet and it threw my sugars all out. Maybe he was abused as a child. Maybe his uncle touched him. Maybe he had sex too early and too often and doesn't know anything about it. Maybe he's never had sex. Maybe he didn't know that I'm a human, too, and he just want want wanted and didn't need to give back. The good news is that no matter how many excuses I can make for him, I made it out.
I pull over before I black out. A cute boy pulls over to ask if I'm alright. I think he's too young for me. We walk to the drugstore on the corner, and asks the pharmacist for help. I survive, thanks to him.
He asks me out on a date. I tell him I just came from one. We laugh. It obviously wasn't a good one.
His name is Andy. I think I'm dating him because it's good to know I'm wanted. I think he's dating me because he wants to.
Fantastic.
This is more like the things I used to write. I'm finally getting back to it. Well, I guess this is the time I start writing Catherine again; I'm finally in my head again.
ReplyDeleteSome part of me wants to tell my past relationships, just to gloat that I survived. But they weren't really all that bad, when I think about it.
Some TV show character once said something like, "This thing I'm telling you is silly, and you probably shouldn't waste your time on it."
ReplyDeleteAnd then her boyfriend said, "It's important to me because it matters to you."
I just wanted to share that. Anyway, I liked that his name was Jerusalem, but mostly this story sounded all too familiar and rather sad. It does sound more like you, though, so bravo.
It is just a rehash, really, of all the things that everyone has always said. But really, there isn't anything new under the sun, so there's very little chance that I'll get away with anything new.
ReplyDeleteYeah, but don't stop trying. Watching you is too much fun.
ReplyDelete