Liar
now with 17% more class
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2003
- Posts
- 43,715
The scene was the after hours of a rather successful student party. Corona bottles, sloshes of red wine in plastic cups, cigarette smoke and the occational weed whiff filled the air. The loudest ranks had moved on to other outrageous venues, and the rest of us, a troop of about a dozen less ambitious ones settled down in small clusters of four or five to let the late night, some slow beat music and meandering conversation mellow us out.
"I'm so bloody bored of trying to figure those things out," a voice beside me said. "Is he interrested, is he not, is he gay, is he taken, blah blah blah...don't you agree?"
"Definitely," I replied. "I get it wrong all the time. That's why I don't even bother anymore."
I now realized that time had passed and one by one the people in my cluster had wandered off to stagger home or whatever, and I found myself left eye to eye with Little C. A hazelnut eyed, caffe-latte skined, pitch-black haired bundle of loveliness with a step that can stop traffic and a voice that can turn the tide. She has wit that cuts through titan, a mind I can't fathom the limits of, a heart the size of the moon and I've been infatuated by her at a respectful distance ever since I first met her two months ago. But, because of what I just told her, that is something I have kept to myself. I mean, she coudn't possibly be both single and interrested, right?
"So, we're doomed to this. To die. Alone. In the rain," Little C said with a melodramatic sigh.
"Don't do a Hemingway, that's just tacky."
"Sorry. It's the beer. I'm not a big drinker."
"Good for you," I said and took another swipe of my own too spiced screwdriver.
"You'd think so. But that only means I never gets really ass drunk and wake up in someone else's bed the next day."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It is when when you're pathetically single," she said with a mock pout. "Good relationships can start that way."
"Bad ones too. Mostly bad ones."
"Party pooper." And then, without losing a beat, "Hey, let's skip all that. No guessing, no drunken mistakes, and just hook up. You and me, right now. What do you say?"
Lock and load. Ka-BLAM! With that, my mind had to reboot. It took me a couple of seconds of blank stare to shape my lips and tongue into a reply.
"Uuh?" Gawd almighty, I'm witty.
"I've been thinking about it," Little C said, obviously oblivious of my brain-fart. "Why can't we just decide to be an official item and see if we can make it work?"
I dumbly sat there and listeed as she went on explaining how she is convinced that flirting with strangers in bars, blind dates and matchmaking is all the wrong way to do things. That way you only have a first impression to go on when deciding who you think you'll last with in the long run.
"And it's not love then either. It's just shallow crushes. I believe that real love takes time. But I know you. I know that you're a nice guy that I'm comfortable with. That's more than I've ever known about guys I've dated. So you're ahead of them already."
"So...ah...what are you saying?" I managed to croak out. Don't ask how.
"That we should be together. Act as if we're in love, and maybe we will become."
"Act as if were...in love? Mmmkayyy."
"Yeah, do boy- and girlfriend stuff," she said. Then paused for a thought. "Not sleeping together, not right away I mean. That could mess it up, if we're not sure what we want. But that's not all that couples do."
I nodded.
"So what do you say? Is it a deal?"
Just like that. Holy cow. How does one reply to that? I wasn't about to tell her that I was madly in lust and crush with her already. This was not the time or place.
"And...if it doesn't work out?" I said.
She shrugged. "Then we'll know."
So simple. Just for that, I fell a little more in awe of her. So before I had the chance to change my mind...
"All right. I'm in."
Her eyes glittered and she lenaned in toward my face. I could have stretched my neck and kissed her, if I was not frozen solid where I sat.
"I knew you'd be," she whispered.
Then landed her lips on mine. A slow but full, deep kiss that made my knees treble, my toes curl and my glass slip out of my hand. It fell to the carpeted floor with a *thud*, and it's content teamed up with a budding civilization of other stains and crumbled potato chips.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Little C said, stood up and walked away with a smug smile and an exaggerated sway on her hips. I slumped back into the sofa and closed my eyes.
I woke up with a soul splitting headache. Beer doesn't affect me, hard liqour is not a problem. But I had a vauge recollection of red wine. That is poison to my head the next morning, without exception. This was a red wine hangover. My breath smelled like a decaying hamster and my memories from the day before were hazy at best.
Bloody weird dream that was too. About the lovely miss Little C of all people. Coming on to me in the most peculiar of ways. Because it was a dream, right? I mean, she coudn't possibly be both single and interrested, right?
Then the phone rang, a foghorn cutting panfully deep into my foggy, soggy brain.
Guess who that was?
Let's just say that I anticipate an interresting week ahead.
If nothing else comes out of it, at least it got me writing something, for the first time since this summer.
(Dialouge translated for your benefit, paraphrased for coherence and probably erroneously transcribed. But as close to what happened as I can get it.)
"I'm so bloody bored of trying to figure those things out," a voice beside me said. "Is he interrested, is he not, is he gay, is he taken, blah blah blah...don't you agree?"
"Definitely," I replied. "I get it wrong all the time. That's why I don't even bother anymore."
I now realized that time had passed and one by one the people in my cluster had wandered off to stagger home or whatever, and I found myself left eye to eye with Little C. A hazelnut eyed, caffe-latte skined, pitch-black haired bundle of loveliness with a step that can stop traffic and a voice that can turn the tide. She has wit that cuts through titan, a mind I can't fathom the limits of, a heart the size of the moon and I've been infatuated by her at a respectful distance ever since I first met her two months ago. But, because of what I just told her, that is something I have kept to myself. I mean, she coudn't possibly be both single and interrested, right?
"So, we're doomed to this. To die. Alone. In the rain," Little C said with a melodramatic sigh.
"Don't do a Hemingway, that's just tacky."
"Sorry. It's the beer. I'm not a big drinker."
"Good for you," I said and took another swipe of my own too spiced screwdriver.
"You'd think so. But that only means I never gets really ass drunk and wake up in someone else's bed the next day."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It is when when you're pathetically single," she said with a mock pout. "Good relationships can start that way."
"Bad ones too. Mostly bad ones."
"Party pooper." And then, without losing a beat, "Hey, let's skip all that. No guessing, no drunken mistakes, and just hook up. You and me, right now. What do you say?"
Lock and load. Ka-BLAM! With that, my mind had to reboot. It took me a couple of seconds of blank stare to shape my lips and tongue into a reply.
"Uuh?" Gawd almighty, I'm witty.
"I've been thinking about it," Little C said, obviously oblivious of my brain-fart. "Why can't we just decide to be an official item and see if we can make it work?"
I dumbly sat there and listeed as she went on explaining how she is convinced that flirting with strangers in bars, blind dates and matchmaking is all the wrong way to do things. That way you only have a first impression to go on when deciding who you think you'll last with in the long run.
"And it's not love then either. It's just shallow crushes. I believe that real love takes time. But I know you. I know that you're a nice guy that I'm comfortable with. That's more than I've ever known about guys I've dated. So you're ahead of them already."
"So...ah...what are you saying?" I managed to croak out. Don't ask how.
"That we should be together. Act as if we're in love, and maybe we will become."
"Act as if were...in love? Mmmkayyy."
"Yeah, do boy- and girlfriend stuff," she said. Then paused for a thought. "Not sleeping together, not right away I mean. That could mess it up, if we're not sure what we want. But that's not all that couples do."
I nodded.
"So what do you say? Is it a deal?"
Just like that. Holy cow. How does one reply to that? I wasn't about to tell her that I was madly in lust and crush with her already. This was not the time or place.
"And...if it doesn't work out?" I said.
She shrugged. "Then we'll know."
So simple. Just for that, I fell a little more in awe of her. So before I had the chance to change my mind...
"All right. I'm in."
Her eyes glittered and she lenaned in toward my face. I could have stretched my neck and kissed her, if I was not frozen solid where I sat.
"I knew you'd be," she whispered.
Then landed her lips on mine. A slow but full, deep kiss that made my knees treble, my toes curl and my glass slip out of my hand. It fell to the carpeted floor with a *thud*, and it's content teamed up with a budding civilization of other stains and crumbled potato chips.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Little C said, stood up and walked away with a smug smile and an exaggerated sway on her hips. I slumped back into the sofa and closed my eyes.
I woke up with a soul splitting headache. Beer doesn't affect me, hard liqour is not a problem. But I had a vauge recollection of red wine. That is poison to my head the next morning, without exception. This was a red wine hangover. My breath smelled like a decaying hamster and my memories from the day before were hazy at best.
Bloody weird dream that was too. About the lovely miss Little C of all people. Coming on to me in the most peculiar of ways. Because it was a dream, right? I mean, she coudn't possibly be both single and interrested, right?
Then the phone rang, a foghorn cutting panfully deep into my foggy, soggy brain.
Guess who that was?
Let's just say that I anticipate an interresting week ahead.
If nothing else comes out of it, at least it got me writing something, for the first time since this summer.
(Dialouge translated for your benefit, paraphrased for coherence and probably erroneously transcribed. But as close to what happened as I can get it.)
Well done.
