Although I feel sick to my stomach when I hear your voice and my eyes drown when I think of your hands, I will not let this pain consume my heart.
Because he is new and exciting and he thinks I’m beautiful, and I think he is, too. And when he took my hand in his, my heart felt full. And he makes me laugh. Genuinely laugh.
I may not fall in love with him. I may not even be with him. Or maybe he’ll break my heart. But I like him. And I think he likes me. And he makes me happy.
And I don’t feel bound to you when I’m happy.
He picked me up and opened my car door every time and paid for my ticket and opened every door for me and held my hand.
But also we had great conversations and made each other laugh, and yeah, there was that stressful “first REAL date” jitter thing going on, but it was still really comfortable.
He’s interesting and smart and kind and genuine.
Last night was an experience to say the least. It was like a two part episode of a twisted TV serious.
My cousin and I were on our way to her best friend’s house. We had plans to go to a local bar after getting ready at her house, so we had some Crown Royal and Smirnoff Ice in the car with us.
Of course, we were not drinking at the time. We were literally just transporting the alcohol to Savannah’s house so we could take it to the bar in her car and drink a little before we went in. All because we didn’t know if we were really going to get to drink anything while there or not.
Anyway, my cousin had won a bet with a friend and ended up having to exchange cars with another friend. She got the good end of the deal, seeing as she got a newer Mustang.
There is this curve turn that my cousin loves going around, and anytime we do she says, “hold onto your panties!” She doesn’t slow down for it at all. Well the car we were in had some feature on it that keeps it from spinning out so she said she was going to do the same thing in this car.
The thing is, it had been raining all day and the road were soaked. So of course, I said “Jordan, please. Please don’t.” To which she told me to calm down. I asked her if she had done it in this car before, and she answered yes. I was still extremely uncomfortable but I just closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
The next thing I remember is saying, “I’m dying, I’m dying” while the car hurled around in circles at least five times. My cousin kept saying “No you’re not, no you’re not!” Apparently she saw how scared I was, and went to slow down. The road was way too wet, and the car had no tread on the tires, so when she hit the breaks, we slid and she over corrected several times. In those last few seconds, even though I was terrified, I became at peace with the fact that I was dying. To clarify, I wasn’t terrified of dying. I was terrified of pain being the last thing I felt. Then we were still. We flew into a ditch and my door was inches from hitting a power pole.
My cousin went into immediate denial. I got out of the car, and told her to get out as well because the engine appeared to be smoking (turns out it was just the water from the ground on the hot car). She was saying, “It’s okay, it’s fine, get back in the car. Push the car out of the ditch!”
When I finally got her to get out of the car we tossed all the alcohol and then called a friend who could get us a tow truck. Then we called the car’s owner. His only response was, “We’re trading back. I’m bringing you your keys.” He handled it extremely well in my opinion. He was like comedic relief for my cousin.
Anyway, we uncounted three police. One didn’t say a word to us. One asked if we were hurt, and we said no. “Alright. Well, call us if you need us.” And they were gone. The next officer asked us if we wanted to file a report. My cousin said no, and he was on his way. Because our car wasn’t in the road, they had no reason to stay. A fire truck stopped by later. I’m not really sure why. He didn’t do anything.
Finally after what felt like an eternity but was actually only two hours, a tow truck came. He got the car out in around fifteen minutes. It will take an estimated 4-5K to repair all of the damages, but the owner has an emergency fund that will cover it.
We actually still ended up going to the bar afterward. I really didn’t want to, but my cousin was having a hard time calming down. She just kept apologizing to me, telling me how she could have killed me and how she never wanted me to get in the car with her again. I decided going out would help relax her and help her have a good time.
I was completely miserable the whole time. I ended up taking responsibility as DD, because my cousin was drinking. But the whole reason we were going in the first place was so that I could black out drunk and forget my former boyfriends name and fill the holes in my chest with liquor. Instead, I got to sit by myself in a crowded bar while constantly being hit on by creepy old men, and my cousin danced and drank and had a good time.
That is until around one thirty a.m. when a kind young gentleman came and sat down next to me. I was on Tumblr when he sat down so I didn’t notice, and he scared the absolute shit out of me. Which was actually pretty funny.
He explained that he didn’t really know anyone there, and had only been to this specific bar twice before, but this was his first time going with out his friends. We talked for a good while, and he never asked for my phone number once.
We bonded over music, cinematography, and our pets. Finally, the last song was playing and the bar was starting to clear our. My cousin was slow dancing with her best friend and I commented on how cute it was. Then he asked me to dance. I thought I might vomit.
Here’s the thing. I don’t dance. Ever. Ever. But something about this boy told me, “Hey. Go for it.” And do we danced. And he held my waist and touched my skin and we kept talking through the dance and it was actually quite nice.
Afterwards, he gave me his number and told me to text him if I ever wanted to hang out. We are having dinner at Outback tomorrow evening.
I don’t know if anything will come of it, or if he’s going to become a big part of my life. Hell, I don’t even know if we’ll actually even get dinner. But I’m alive, I’m attracted to him and I’d like to get to know him better. And when we were dancing, I was really happy again for the first time in a long time.
it’s so much easier to say “fuck you”
than it is to say “please, come hold me.”
it’s so much easier to say “never talk to me again”
than it is to say “please, call me.”
it’s so much easier to say “I hate you”
than it is to admit that i still love you.
it’s so much easier to kick holes in the walls
than it is to clean the tears off my face.
it’s so much easier to fracture my fingers on the steering wheel
than it is to keep my sobs in the back of my throat.
it’s so much easier to scream until i can no longer speak
than to admit i’d rather kill myself that take another breath.
it’s so much easier to lay in bed all day
than it is to face this world alone.
it’s so much easier to push my plate away
than it is to think of what i thought we had.
it’s so much easier to waste away like nothing
than it is to be reminded that’s all I am to you.
I can still taste the alcohol on lips.
I can still smell the bowl in the air.
I can’t tell you how amazing it felt
to actually let down my hair.
I was free of you for a whole night.
My head was spinning
and my feet were dancing.
The flavor of the atmosphere was winning.
Today my head hurts.
My stomach is sick too.
But I’ll deal with the hang over
if it means forgetting you.
fuck you with your dirty ass hair
baby powder doesn’t make make the grease go away.
and any level of dry shampoo
doesn’t count as the first shower of the day.
fuck you and your lies;
whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
and to whichever girl is on your other side,
telling both of us what we want to hear.
fuck you and your little innocent facade;
little boy with winnie the pooh on your laptop.
Meanwhile you flirt with girls five years younger than you.
I wonder if you’ll take them to the same engagement ring shop.
fuck you and your quote unquote beard,
trying to build yourself into the image of a mountain man.
But in reality you just look like the guy people look out for,
who has twelve kids in the back of his van.
fuck you and your dirty feet.
the ones you forget to wash during your monthly shower.
the ones with nails so long they cut me in my sleep,
and that smelled so disgustingly sour.
fuck you and your lips.
the ones that brushed against mine
the night before you decided you could just go,
and leave me behind without a single goodbye.