F Peep Toes

It’s 2 o’clock in the morning and I just left one friend who was delighted with a recent set up. 

He liked her and she liked him, they were ordering another round. I could leave and not worry. 

I went with another friend to a bar where her old crush was with friends. A part of me wanted to go home. A massive part of me was done drinking Jack Daniels and I remembered that nothing good every happened after 2 am. 

I followed her to the next bar downtown. Because I’m always stupid enough to think what if. I’ll get to the bar and get another drink, maybe not Jack Daniels, but probably Jack Daniels. I’ll get lost in the our conversation for a few minutes and then turn to see someone whose giving me the green light. I give him the green light in return. Old timey french orchestrated music plays and we start to dance. His chest his big and wide and welcoming, I’m safe as I lean against him. 

This is what I picture happening as I pee in the bathroom stall. I imagine me slow dancing to this old timey music with someone whose tall and broad and keeps me safe and without doubts. 

Then I realize, I’m in the bathroom stall and it’s after 2am. 

I go to the mirror and push my hair behind my ears and straighten my eyeliner. I push a smile against my face. 

The dim lighting makes me look tired and sad. 

The guy I was supposed to be flirting with enters the shared space and I flash him a reassuring smile before leaving the mirror. 

I go back to my friend to tell her and her crush that I was heading out. She wasn’t surprised. 

I find a cab quickly and don’t cry. I take my shoes off as a enter my apartment and hear that my roommate is still up, talking with a guy in her bed. 

Well, at least one of us is getting laid. 

It stopped being about sex a long time ago,

A friend recently asked me- am I in the category of having fun and a rotation of guys or am I looking to settle down with Mr Right. 

I thought about it- and then told her, I don’t know why but I feel like I’m not in the game. I’m an observer, someone on the sidelines taking notes. 

I don’t have the optimism, faith or energy to gather up a rotation and I’m not sure Mr Right exists. 

Maybe I’m just here to help others find love. 

I’m here to correct the grammar of text messages, and make my friends less afraid, to push them towards love and be the ever permanent wing girl. 

I know what you’re thinking- this is what a lonely girl says before she finds her prince charming. 

But I think, prince charming got too drunk during happy hour with his bros and cancelled the meetup a long time ago. 

So I’m left, walking home alone in bare feet, 

cause my glass slippers were too damn uncomfortable and all those damn bobby pins gave me a headache. 

I’m left alone, to rally myself up for another day of solo cheerleading. This is a pity party I know. 

But what else does a twenty something year old need to do in this fucking city to get laid and/or love? I even pulled out my Jessica Simpson pink peep toe stilettoes tonight and I’m still left ordering eggs benedict at 3am solo. 

Well, at least True Blood is on tomorrow.