a pointless recollection of 8/24/2019
It was a night that stood out from the typical fridaysaturdaysunday bullshit. An outlier worth remembering and worth dancing my fingers on the keyboard for. My memory fucking sucks and if I don’t write it down, it didn’t happen five years from now.
Plank Road Tavern was the destination. Taylor, my typical sidekick for the night. A glass of red and a realization in the Uber that we were hardly tipsy enough for a Saturday night. We went to watch a friend perform and pretend to be a country singer. The bar was dusty and dark. The locals sitting on the stools looked like they may have planted themselves there since noon. The live music was bursting through the cracks on the walls, our legs taking us straight to the source. The patio was muggy, lined in romantic yellow lights, and as perfect a Summer night you could hope for.
It was a goddamn high school and college reunion that I would have avoided had I known. When I saw a former best friend, she aggressively started diving into the latest drama in a way that you would not do if you were in the company of a genuine friend. The other former friend not even hiding her disinterest in seeing me. Her eyes darting from side to side as we say our hello’s and halfheartedly hug. Let’s all shake on a pact to stop hugging people we don’t like. All of us secretly sizing each other up. Does she look the same? Is she seeing anyone? Is she happy? Happier than me? Girls are fun.
Then there were the college acquaintances. Years ago I may have smiled, maybe given a wave. Some sort of acknowledgment that we spent four years blacked out together. No, I don’t owe these people anything. There’s a reason we didn’t keep in touch and I don’t need to find out why that was. It doesn’t surprise me that you live in Lakewood at 27. I know I sound bitter but it’s coming more from a place of not caring and caring enough not to be fake.
Taylor and I needed a body guard by the name of alcohol. A survival tactic in this highly dangerous environment of past friends, lovers, and enemies. Two tall doubles? Sure! $10 each? I got paid yesterday.
The Tito’s was tasting better by the sip and I found myself giving the bartender my credit card for the third time. The night was looking like it just got a fresh coat of paint; the people less annoying, my mood softening, and inhibitions melting. But I was in trouble because vodka was in control now.
A tall, dark, and bearded boy was suddenly to my left, asking me how my night was going. Finally a man striking up conversation in real time and not behind a gray bubble on your iPhone. Dressed head to toe in all black, a hat covering dark brown hair that was definitely cut in hipster fashion. There was something inviting about his demeanor. Was it his kind eyes? Lips that stayed turned up, as if in on a secret I didn’t know about? We kept the pleasantries short, as I hate being the girl who leaves her friends.
They all agreed he was handsome, the words suddenly waking me up to how handsome he really was. Something told me to go outside on the patio and seize the moment. Seize this man who was confident enough to approach a woman at the bar.
I heard my name shouted from the corner, my strategy falling into place. He was seated at a picnic table with who I came to learn were coworkers of his, finishing their shift together at none other than Plank Road Tavern. He was a cook there. They welcomed me surprisingly well for a girl who looks like me and was drunk like me. They began recounting their night and telling me the best foods on the menu. Asking me what I liked to eat. It was nice to be a wallflower at the end of the table, hearing what it’s like working in the restaurant industry. A world I was never privy to.
The boy followed me inside, which turned into following me into the Uber, and eventually onto a couch. I was happy to have a shadow as cute as him. The night was blurring ever so slightly, the details less sharp, but I wanted this. I don’t take strangers home, ever, but felt my old fashioned values slipping away. I think that’s why I’m writing this. It was so out of character that it needs to be documented in my life’s personnel file.
We apparently had conversation in the car. It must have flowed well enough. I was starting to regret those tall doubles. Word to self: you’re too old to get that drunk. Stop it.
I brought him back to Taylor’s house, where my car was. Thank god I didn’t drive and that Taylor also brought someone home. We crashed onto the couch and stripped our clothes in record time. He was on top and I moaning on the bottom. He said I was tight. He’s not wrong. I don’t let just any willing participant feel that part of me. Many girls look for validation in the number of men that desire them but I think your relationship with yourself is so much more meaningful.
He gave me his black shirt to sleep in because my clothes were hastily thrown across the room. I woke up at sunrise, sweating and with an inevitable pounding headache. I crept into Taylor’s bed, one eye open and one eye closed on the walk there. I woke up again hours later to Taylor saying there was a strange man reading a book on her couch. Fuck. I shouldn’t have left him alone on the couch. Someone once told me that’s bad manners.
Reality hit me like a wave. I looked down to find myself wearing a shirt that just barely covered my ass. “I couldn’t leave without my shirt”, he said, shirtless and sporting a dad bod that I appreciate. I noticed one of his front teeth was stained a different color than the rest and wondered why that was. Something that wouldn’t have caught my attention at night but of course in the day is one of the first features I notice on a person.
He asked if I could drive him to his car. I made sure to put on my favorite playlist, hoping he’d hear something that would peak his interest. I found out his name. 32. Studied at the Cleveland Institute of Art. From Rochester, NY. Nothing that came as a surprise to me based on the person sitting next to me. Apparently it was a repeat of our conversation from the night before. But I felt myself putting walls back up and being prickly towards him. With each mile, I was battling thoughts of “do I speak to him again or is this not for me?” Maybe he is slimy and does this at the end of every shift— finds a girl who had a few Tito’s too many. I began asking questions but tuning out his answers and then welcomed more silence into the conversation altogether. Let him ask some questions for a change (not a strength of men BTW). To my surprise, he asked what my plans were for the day. His shift didn’t start until 1 pm. Did I want to get breakfast? Words started coming out of my mouth before I could stop them. I told him I had a family thing, which was a lie. Before he left, he gave me a hug and reminded me that I have his phone number.
It was a Sunday x10. The kind that you want to sleep all day but you’re awful at taking naps / your body still hates you / interacting with humans feels like a mistake. I caved at 7 pm, sending him a “nice to meet you” text. I don’t know what it was that ultimately changed my mind. Maybe it’s the way he folded my shirt and jeans neatly in the morning. Or offering to make us breakfast but there were no eggs. Or asking if I wanted gas money for driving him to his car. It could’ve been him telling me he plays drums in a band since I’m a sucker for musicians. But I think every person you meet was planted there by the universe. The universe watches with a glass of wine and makes bets like your life is a poker game. You win some, you lose some, and sometimes you even get to orgasm (not this time).
“Yeah I was worried I wouldn’t hear from you again”, he texted back.
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