I’m channeling my inner Carrie Bradshaw tonight to write you this post, with the addition of the picture above in which I am not holding a cigarette like she would be, but wearing shoes that made me feel like a siren last night. Of course, a few hours later, in a sweaty mass of (significantly older and shorter) latino men (though that was arguable as I watched a few of them acting like boys) bouncing to a salsa version of “Where Have You Been”, I thought I heard the ambulance sirens coming for me as my feet began to feel like they were on fire and gradually began to stop working.
The pain of my arches feeling like they were being stretched out over a hundred miles, I hobbled over to the nearest chair and, as any young single woman does while in a crowded bar where she doesn’t wish to be pursued, whipped my phone out of my purse and proceeded to text a select few people I thought would be awake & conversational at 1:00 in the morning. It was easy enough in the beginning- I was talking to 3 different people- but as 1:30 approached, the green light on my phone flashed less often until it came to a complete halt for 3 minutes, which was 3 minutes that made me vulnerable to the 30-something year old men who loved to kiss my hand and hold an intense stare to the point where I couldn’t even look up without squirming in my seat.
I scrolled through the conversations saved in my phone, and I knew the moment I had been dreading would come, had arrived: his name stared back at me in my contacts list, begging me to text him. What’s more, I realized in that moment I didn’t just want to text him because I was trying to ward off seemingly innocent (but persistent) Francesco. I wanted to text him because I missed talking with him. And I knew he would be awake. And before I knew what was happening, I had sent him a text. It was a childish greeting. A cute “rawrrrhey”. But it worked, because he texted me back. I smiled.
I texted him back a cool “What’s good?” To which he hastily replied: “Nothing”. And just like that, my hopes of a long, quality talk were smashed, just like the man who was dancing with the wall a few feet away from me. I waited patiently for him to ask me “What’s up with you?” That could get a good conversation going. I mean, what was I supposed to say to “Nothing”? “That sucks, I’m sorry you’re bored”? Sure, yeah, probably. But isn’t it just texting etiquette to say “You?” right after you say, “Nothing?” Or to say ANYTHING else besides one word? I put my phone back in my purse and got swept to the dance floor for one last dance.
This morning, I checked my text messages and still, nothing from him. I gave in and texted him something that suggested what I did last night might be a funny story. Still nothing. I made some excuses to give him some time to text me back, until a couple hours ago, when I got annoyed and texted him two cheeky (somewhat bitter) text messages of a made-up conversation I wish we had been having, complete with my confession that I miss talking with him and a reminder that he promised that we wouldn’t stop talking after I left this summer. 2 hours later, no reply. And then I got to wondering: does he even want to talk to me anymore? Is he distracted? Did he check his texts while busy and say “I’ll text her back later”, and then forget? Is he working?
WHY THE HELL ISN’T HE ANSWERING?
And so, I am at a loss as to what to do now. Do I even do anything? Or do I give up? Do I try to express to him that I still care about him and miss hearing his voice? Or do I not give him the time of day because, if he is avoiding me from hundreds of miles apart (which there is a possibility he may be, but he may be not), why should I bother? I don’t know.
But what I do know is this: nothing good can come from excruciating shoes, and painful silence.
There are so many questions going through my head right now
The first one being “How can I type so eloquently under the influence”
The second one being “Why won’t my fingers work when I’m texting”
The third one being “Why the effbomb am I here?”
This just about sums up everything right now. Damien Rice, how DO you do it?
And why the hell do I need to know why jawless fishes are important?
And why the hell does it matter that the appalachians were built over a period of three orogoneys?
And why the hell is it necessary to know the difference between ice that has tektikes is, and ice that DOES NOT have tektikes in it?
Here’s a fact: none of it is really useful information to know. And after tomorrow when I take the final (possibly during the final), I’m going to forget all of it.
p.s. I’m really sick of finals, in case you haven’t noticed.
If you see me around throughout the next week, and I look like this, it’s not because I’m unhappy to see you.
It’s because it’s finals week & I have 2 exams (not bad), but I also happen to have a 40 hour work schedule (bad).
But, do be worried if I still have imprints of computer screens on my glasses. In that case, run.