Saturday, March 06, 2010

one of them

i was young and at a nightclub in san francisco. it was a meat market and i didnt really belong there. it wasnt the sort of club i was fond of going to at that time. i was more into clubs where the music was the focal element, and the sex was just a consequence of things. at this club the sex was front and center, everyone had the same agenda. the music was just there for distraction.

i was standing at the bar and unconsciously sipping on a long island ice tea when i noticed her dancing there. she was in a black dress and her hair was up and her eyes were ice blue and her mouth was full and round. she had a piercing, a hoop in her bottom lip. she was dancing with her side facing me and her hips rhythmically thrusting forward and her eyes on my eyes and her bottom lip between her teeth. i stared back at her. when i left i had her phone number and she had mine.

a few days later i called in sick to work. i dont remember why, i guess i was just feeling under the weather that day. i hadnt talked to her —her name was sarah— and in a way i didnt plan to. she was gorgeous, out of my league. i was lucky to have even met her. i took it as an accomplishment that i even got her number, and filed it away for bragging rights. i never wanted to sully the experience. but she called. right there in the middle of the afternoon on a day that i happened to call in sick to work. it was like kismet. i was immediately smitten.

we began to hang out fairly regularly, which was maybe once or twice a week. we spoke on the phone every day. she lived across the bridge with her mother. i lived with roomates in the city. when we could manage it, she would come over and we would watch rented movies while drinking vodka cranberries. i would kiss her on the couch in between laughs. when we were both drunk enough i would fumble through nervous sex. i always tried my best, but im not sure i ever satisfied her.

she began talking about an old boyfriend from new york. his name would just pop up in the conversation more and more. she had partied fairly heavily with him, he was a drug dealer of sorts, and had seemed quite taken by his rebellious courage. i had partied a lot, and was quite proud of my battle wounds, but she said he took partying to another level. one i didnt even know. you wouldnt even want to know, she said.

i was a dj and was sometimes writing for a music magazine but it didnt seem very impressive to either of us. i hardly djed and wasnt very good at the time, and i never got paid for my writing. i was always broke. i would always fumble.

i had a friend who was a music producer and dj himself. he seemed nice and shy and introverted and we got along well enough. one day the three of us went to a concert. she drove. her and i had gone through a little spat, where i had gotten insecure for a bit and tried to ignore her to get attention, but she gave in and that night we all were in good spirits. i dont remember the show, who was playing or how well they played, i just drank my nerves away and toyed with her hands.

when she drove us home she dropped me off first. i was hurt and disappointed that she didnt want to come upstairs with me, but tried to play it off as if it didnt matter and said good bye smiling. the next day i called her but her mother said she wasnt home. i called my friend but he didnt answer the phone. the poison of jealousy infected me. i walked near his house looking for her car. i knew something was up. i didnt see her car so went home and called them both again. there was no answer on either end. my head was racing. i sat and stood and sat and buried my face in my palms and then sighed. i call her again and she didnt answer. there was a hollow fear and sadness inside me. it was growing dark. i called him once more and he finally picked up. i asked him if she was there. he said yes.

they both said they felt bad but i called her a whore and i scolded him for being a foul friend. me and her stopped speaking. me and him stayed friends for a little while but i never rid myself of the poison and it was never the same. eventually we stopped speaking too. he turned out to be a disagreeable person and there was a bitterness inside me that i could never let go of. cest la vie.

i only say this because a broken heart remains. it never goes away. and i hadnt posted in a long time.


Blogger Hermes said...

Reading this made me jealous, made me sick to my stomach, and made me sad all at the same time. I've known this feeling and it is a truly terrible one to have.

12:37 PM EST  

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:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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