I don’t feel like having drama plastered all over my blog, especially for first-time readers, but who am I kidding? My blog has always been about the drama.
Anyway, all the feedback for the previous post has inspired me to write the following:
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Girl and City
Coming-of-age story about a girl and her city.
If you have any sense of foreshadowing, you’ll know are only two types of posts that could follow a three-night sleepover with HB:
- Juicy, emotionally confusing, and morally questionable
- Sensible, uptight, and boring
You’ll be happy to hear that my post is of the first variety. While it ranks high in the entertaining category, it ranks low in the my-proudest-moments category. So don’t judge, k?
I arrived at HB’s to find him vacuuming. Apparently, he cared about making impressions, although this was not the first time I’d stayed at his apartment. Neither of us had planned anything for the first night, so we had dinner with his brother at a Korean/Japanese restaurant nearby. Then, we engaged in our favourite activity: wandering around The City. We walked through urban parks and impromptu art displays, we sat down on benches and stone garden walls, we held hands and linked arms. We were completely in-tune with each other, and conversation flowed endlessly. He never mentioned his relationship status and I never asked.
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It recently occurred to me that if I put all my stories together and tied it up with a neat little theme and some subtle psychological character analysis, I’d have a damn good book on my hands.
I thought after this weekend, I’d have another excellent chick-lit-esque story for you, involving beautiful shoes, good wine, and mysterious men. While I do have a story that contains all of that, it also contains another rather serious and disturbing portion, which makes it difficult for me to recount with my usual dose of humour. But we’ll see how it goes.
Traveling is never my favourite part of these stories, because it’s hard to recreate the anticipation of an event after the event has already occurred. So I’ll skip over the part where I woke up at six am in order to catch a bus to the train station only to realize the bus was never going to come and then selling an organ and a limb in order to pay the taxi fare to the train station and then being literally one second late for the train I was supposed to go on. Skip all that and fast-forward to when I finally arrive in The City.
I was picked up from the subway station by WAF, WAF’s boyfriend, who I will now call SubduedRageBoy (this will make sense later), and their friend, PotentiallyGayBoy. and whisked away to lunch. In the car, I changed into my new stilettos and used lunch as an opportunity to practice walking in them.
The food itself was not impressive, but the four of us had a good talk over lunch. PGB and I realized we had a lot in common, and if it wasn’t for the fact that we strongly suspect him of pitching for the other team, we probably would have made a really cute couple. Still, I can always use a gay friend; they’re usually the loveliest anyway.
After lunch we went back to SRB’s house mansion and I started drinking. We still had a lot of alcohol left over from last weekend and I was determined to at least make a dent in the stash. Meanwhile, SRB and PGB were looking up hotels and planning our getaway to Montreal in two weeks time. Somewhere between my first and second glass of wine, I had donned a pair of rose-tinted glasses and felt as if the world was spinning with me at its center, that everything was right and perfect and everyone was lovely and sweet.
The rest of the afternoon seemed to pass at lightning speed (doesn’t it always when you’re drunk having a good time?). I must have been more buzzed than I thought because I almost sprained my ankle trying on WAF’s heels and then laid down on the marble floor in SRB’s foyer and pretended to swim. WAF reminded me that we were supposed to go shopping before meeting the girls for dinner, so I tried to sober up. But it was a long and difficult ordeal.
Finally, finally, when I was sober enough to walk on my own, WAF and I changed into our evening gowns cocktail dresses and headed downtown1. We went to Forever21 and H&M and only ended up buying accessories, then clicked down the street in our heels toward dinner.
The restaurant we were meeting at was famous for their wine list, which was why I had picked it. The girls I’d invited were all chronically late, always, so I had figured we could just hang out at the bar and drink wine until everyone arrived. Unfortunately, the bar was closed (on a Saturday?!?! Do they not want business?), but fortunately, all my friends arrived relatively on time2! We ordered a bottle of wine, had an excellent dinner, and discussed politics and world issues school and boys and our futures as the most powerful women in the world.
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I woke up this morning and two things suddenly occurred to me. One was that my ex-boyfriend may be under the impression that I have a boyfriend right now, and the second was that there was left-over chicken wings in the fridge.
You see, a couple weeks after the end of school, we had a “grade trip,” a five-day camping trip. Technically, only a third of the grade went on this trip, but it happens annually. Anyway, it came at the peak of my dangerously flirtatious friendship with HB. So the memory that jerked me awake was from the second night of the trip, when HB and I had gone for a walk while everyone else was at the campfire. During our walk we came upon MFL and The Other Girl. They had shined their flashlights on us, so for a while, I couldn’t tell it was them. I think HB and I were holding hands. Anyway, it ranked pretty high on the awkward scale, but at the time I was too alcohol-happy to care (I wasn’t drunk, I swear!).
So I guess it didn’t hit me until now what it must seem like to him, since we never talked about our love lives after that awful day…