i am laying in bed, playing with the hairs on my forearm. they lay flat, resting. my curtains are open and the sky is moving in a cinematic way. unwanted images from the past appear in my mind.
there is no escaping the elevator mirror. i am trapped in a moving box. my red lipstick ruined, my mascara about to be. i try to hold it all in and tell myself it happened because of me. all i wanted was to feel like i was in control of the situation.
a few hours earlier
‘‘hey, do you want to grab a drink tonight? I know a bar with great cocktails not far from my place’’
i contemplate if i should go out tonight, i could use a break from the alcohol but it’s friday night and i am feeling lonely. my ex has moved on, he is dating someone else and he said it’s ‘‘pretty serious’’ so the right thing to do is to flush that pain away with a stranger i know nothing about.
‘‘sure, that sounds fun. where is the bar located? and what time should we meet?’’
‘‘it’s in central business district. let’s say 9 pm?’’
i have never met this guy before. my instinct will have to do with some profile photos and a short introduction. it’s showing he has some friends, that’s a good start. some selfies, and travel photos. his bio seems a bit self absorbed but i give him the benefit of the doubt.
it’s 7 pm. i make myself a quick girl dinner and get in the shower. i want to wash away the hollowness i feel. after the shower i reach for my makeup bag under the sink. it’s what i cling to in these types of situations. it feels like wrapping myself in someone else’s flesh, i am no longer who i was in the shower. it’s not so much that my look changes drastically, it’s a ritual of becoming unlike myself. i am no longer that girl with low self esteem. i am now confident and sexy.
i am waiting for the bus at the busstop around the corner of my apartment. it takes me 30 minutes to get into central business district and i hate being late. the bus arrives. i feel slightly uncomfortable getting on it. i avoid other people’s faces when i walk to my seat. the music coming through my headphones is taking an attempt to silence my overactive brain. it’s Portishead, a band i recently discovered and now obsessively listen to. the bus stops at my destination, it’s a 10 minute walk to the cocktail bar.
i walk to the front of the bar. it looks very small and empty from the outside. the host asks if i have a reservation and i tell him my date is downstairs. i cautiously trudge down the winding staircase and enter a big room full of good looking people. the dimmed lighting, the low ceiling and the dark brown leather couches are establishing a very sensual vibe. i spot the guy i am sharing a drink with, his name is craig. he is handsome. his teeth are incredibly straight and white when he smiles at me. his hair shining hues of black and he is wearing a suit, to my surprise.
i give craig a hug and say it’s nice to meet him. we talk about the basic stuff, such as what he does for work (it explained the suit), how long he’s been in Sydney and the whole merry-go-round you go through on a first date. there isn’t much depth to our conversation and i don’t sense a connection on an emotional level. craig is not reluctant to keep the drinks coming and i tell him i’ve had enough. he pushes me to drink one more with him and uses the argument that we are having such a nice time.
we step outside the bar. my head spinning, the fresh air is welcome.
‘‘i had a nice time, thank you for everything’’ i try to sound sober but i know i am failing.
‘‘oh, are you leaving already? i thought we just got started.’’ craig puts his arm around my waist in a playful manner. ‘‘there is a little party going on at my apartment, my roommates are throwing a little get together. it’s literally around the corner. care to come over?’’
‘‘i am pretty tired, i think i am heading back home, but this was fun!’’
‘‘come on, it’s not even 5 minutes from here, it’s friday night, you shouldn’t be in bed already.’’
i feel my makeup powers wearing off, i have transformed back into that low self esteem girl and left my backbone somewhere in that bar downstairs. i try to convince myself. what is one extra drink anyway? i am already going to be hungover tomorrow, besides, it’s a house party and i’ll meet new people. i should be social and outgoing if i ever want to feel a connection with somebody again.
it’s 1 am. we enter the elevator of his apartment building. the building is cold like the marble walls. craig turns to face me and kisses me wildly. my brain is trying to catch up to what is happening and i realize his tongue is moving frantically inside my mouth. i am letting it all happen.
the doors of the elevator open and i hear noises in the hallway. i am relieved there is an actual party going on. we enter his apartment and there are maybe six people in the living room. mostly his roommates, a friend and one other girl. he introduces me and i chat a bit with some of his friends. regret washes over me, it was a mistake to come here. the vibe is weird, i am feeling timid and i just want to go to bed. i feel lonelier than i was at home.
to be continued.
It feels strange to ‘like’ this story but in the name of empowerment I did. Well written.
This is a position that is far too common for women to find themselves in. There’s so many different ways this story can end—none good. Thank you so much for sharing ❤️🩹