of malice

At first I decided not to write about this; to not tell you what happened tonight. But I’ve come to depend on this sharing. When I can’t figure out how I’m feeling, writing to you seems to be my only way out. So here goes.

Much against Mister’s advice, I went out dancing, alone. We fought about it – he was concerned about my safety and I was concerned about my mental health. I haven’t done anything other than work-sleep-work for the last two weeks and I’ve had it. My life is a fucking nightclub, and I’m starting to feel out of place. Again.

I’d have let it go, but today was one of those days when I just couldn’t bear being indoors anymore; I couldn’t bear being the. weaker sex. It felt like I was dissolving into the shadows little by little – becoming nothing in his absence. Like I didn’t exist as an individual. Who says good girls can’t go dancing alone?

So I went to that club to sit in that stool by the bar. And secretly, to see if A. was going to be there. I hadn’t met him since he told me he was in love with me. After what happened last time, would he even acknowledge my presence?

Maybe not. But somehow, I needed to know tonight – I needed to know that I owned his heart. It’s not like I wanted to act on it, but I have been attracted to him for a long time, and I needed to know he was still in love with me. Does that make sense?

To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether to go in, so I stood outside for a few minutes, trying to make up my mind.

Another couple that frequents the place dragged me inside, and A. was the first thing I saw.

But he was wrapped in a pair of arms – and those arms belonged to someone I know intimately. Someone who knows about my history with A and how I feel about him. They were swaying to a song. My song. And when I asked Giggles to meet me today, she told me she was busy with work.

How long has she been lying to me for?

of my bucket list

Ever since Anawnimister and I got together, I haven’t shopped alone, which I really used to enjoy when I was married. With him, things are different. We do things together. I know how sappy that sounds. That’s because it is.

Anyway, he needed to go out of town for the weekend for work, it seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. I stayed up all night, went to sleep at 7 am, woke up at 1 pm, ate junk food and stepped out of the house. I also made plans with the only girlfriend I have, and as with all other plans, something really good came out of it.

of dancing with strange men

Really? This is the third time this week. What’s gotten into you? The boyfriend is obviously puzzled about your sudden willingness to go out more often. Sure, you like dancing but going out three days a week isn’t really your scene. At least it wasn’t your scene until ten days ago. He says he will meet you there.

Now, you find yourself drawn to this place like iron filings to a magnet. A magnate, you should say, for it’s the person you’re interested in, not the place.

You’re always jittery as you enter a club alone. Will he be there? But this time, your heart is pounding. He’s there, sitting on one of the bar stools. Your bar stool.

of coincidences

He asks you what you want to do in the evening and the answer darts out of your mouth like it wants to break out of prison. Let’s go dancing again. I love dancing. 

You reach the club a little early. You’re sitting on bar stools, both of you. Your bar stools. It makes you feel sexier, though you know it’s ridiculous to be feeling sexy just because you always sit in the same place. You and the boyfriend knock back a few drinks. He holds your hand and looks into your eyes hoping to see love or some such, but you’re not feeling romantic today. You just want to drink and dance, and feel sexy, and nothing else.

The boyfriend is going on about something you have no interest in. You take his hand and pull him close and start to dance. You’re the only ones dancing, and you like that. You like knowing that everyone in the club is looking at you. The DJ is playing songs for you, only for you. You’re feeling so beautiful in his arms, so safe. Now he’s twirling you around like a spinning top and you’re dancing as fast as you can until you hit something. Someone. Remnants of what was a glass are scattered all over the floor. You are still wondering whether to supply an apology, but the boyfriend puts his arm around your waist and escorts you to safety. You turn around and catch the other guy’s eye. He winks and you blush. It’s the droolworthy guy from the highway!

You excuse yourself and go to the restroom. When you return, the boyfriend and the highway guy are talking. You step back inside and hide there for a while.

When you come out again, he’s gone. The boyfriend tells you the guy’s name is A., and he owns this place.

Fuck.

—

There’s more to this story:

Here’s how it started. I met him on the highway, and because we knew we were never going to see each other again, we flirted like crazy. But I couldn’t have been more wrong, obviously. I met him again, as you already know from this story. And then there was the dancing. So HOT. As is the case with all things exciting, things went awry, at least for me.  I think it’s finally over, our little game. It makes me sad that the chase is over, but such is life!