nancy drew & the case of the nars lipstick.
i broke every cardinal rule of dating and went out with a lax bro.
we met because of his roommate, who was a friend of mine from college. i figured why not – if he’s friends with my friend then he can’t be that bad.
we went out a few times. those times were usually one of those blurry nights where i wake up and feel like i got hit by a train, have no idea how or when i left the bar, and i have make up smeared all over my face like a raccoon who just barely survived darting across a highway. delightful. this is a start to a great little shitshow.
one of these particular nights, i’m lying in bed next to him and a girl bursts through the bedroom door. i think it must be a girl that one of his roommates brought home, who just got lost on her way to the their disgusting bathroom - likely traumatized by having to put the toilet seat down.
i was very, very, very wrong in my analysis of the situation. this particular wandering girl was not one of the roommate’s girls, but rather the lax bro’s ex girlfriend.
the look of disgust on her face when she saw me in his bed made me want to say – “oh, but actually be happy you’re not with him anymore, because he’s terrible in bed. didn’t enjoy a second of it. have a nice night!” and run roadrunner speed out the door. instead, i sat with the sheet up to my nose as they yelled at one another.
...can you two take this argument outside? i’d like to get dressed and go throw myself in front of a subway train.
i gathered my belongings and raced out of the apartment. i never planned on speaking to him ever again (we are never getting back together...like. ever.).
that is, until i went out the next weekend – and realized my favorite nars lipstick was missing.
the color is discontinued. to not have this particular lipstick in my life would be just tragic, it would be outrageous to think i could ever even go out again without this shade of pink heaven on my lips. i had to get it back.
i could picture it on his bedside table, all alone and not being used to its full, glorious pink potential. the poor thing was to bear witness to the argument of the lax bro and the batshit ex, and who knows what else that went on in that tiny room.
so i texted him. “hey – i think i left my lipstick at your place. could i come get it?” no answer.
days pass. my separation anxiety is through the roof. it’s DISCONTINUED. i may never see it ever again. the world’s smallest violin plays in the background. but i am determined. i must get it back.
i text him again. i call him. text. nothing.
i can see my dignity just spiraling downward into a deep dark abyss every text i send and every response i don’t get. is losing my dignity worth getting this lipstick back?
eventually, i gave up trying to go through him and had his roommate (my friend) get it back for me. i promised the lipstick i would never let a guy get in between us again. and i would never, ever leave it on the bedside table.
dignity – 0. nars lipstick - 1.
