My worst nightmares have come true. After a nice long span of rowdiness, I have settled into a dry spell. I have not had sex or done coke or anything really fun like that in almost a month. Am I not cool anymore? True though it may be that I’m still hitting the bars and the bong, I’ve begun to settle into a new routine. It sucks. (Not in a good way.)
What was once a consistent rotation of hoes has now turned into a rotation of joints with my homies. I can’t even complain that much– it’s been kinda nice. Selfishly, I just wish I could have it all.
I’d like to blame covid. I’d like to say that somewhere between brain fog and two week isolation, I forgot how to socialize. The truth is, I think I’ve been uncool all along, just (maybe?) good at hiding it.
“Nice shirt,” I say to a stranger.
“Thanks,” they reply.
Egads! I did not plan for this response. My heart rate picks up, all thoughts abandoning my brain.
I do not know what to say. They don’t seem to know what to say. I am frozen. They are frozen. We share a moment of solidarity in that before we part ways. I am such a fucking idiot, I lament. My night is ruined.
I think that I see someone I know. I smile and I try to make eye contact because if I waved and they didn’t wave back, I know I’d have to leave right now. Shortly thereafter, we make eye contact. A moment of recognition… and deadpan. Who is supposed to smile first, formally speaking? Who waves first? Do you want me to say hi to you, or should I just pretend we don’t know each other? It’s okay either way but if you don’t tell me then I’m going to do the latter. It will get more awkward the longer we both stay here. The hardest part? I know that you are probably thinking the same thing.
Two or three people in a larger group laugh with one another. It’s been a second since I laughed. I must know the joke. I demand heehee haha.
“What?” I pray I’m close enough to the conversation for this to seem normal.
“Oh we were just saying how–” the rest is lost to me.
“Y’know the–” nothing more.
“What?” Will this third time be the charm or the strike?
“Nothing, it’s not important.”
Help me. Please.
I give the wrong answer in class. Laughter. I begin to wonder if I should move to a new country. Daydreams soon turn to nightmares as I consider how quickly word travels in this day and age. Surely, my new peers would have word of my stupidity by morning and I would be executed for my crimes immediately.
Reflecting on my life, I have a few questions about my personality. When did it work? How did it work? I’ll have you know, for a period of time, I had it all: friends, sex, drugs, rock n roll, you name it. Was I a different person then? More fun? What changed? When did I know how to be a human?
Shall I forever be relegated solely to bong rips and boring bar trips? You’d invite me into a bathroom for something or other, wouldn’t you, oh, Dear Reader? Even just from what I’ve written here? Maybe this is where it all ends. Perhaps it’s time to settle in for a quiet life with my cats. And shouldn’t that be enough?