I’ve been to C---‘s house and it’s nice and has two floors and has two extra bedrooms and all granite countertops and a lot of art on the walls so it’s a far cry from my small studio apartment. It’s empty when we get there and he tells me that people will be there in a few hours and he asks me if I have anymore of the blow and I say just enough for the two of us and he says that’s perfect and then he pours two drinks of I don’t know what and I’m starting to wonder if anyone is really coming over later or if it’s really just going to be the two of us and I thought that at the beginning of the night that this was what I wanted – that I just wanted it to be the two of us, even though I don’t particularly find him interesting or intelligent or any of those important qualities that my parents told me I should look for in other people – but now as I’m looking at him and I’m starting to recognize the art on his wall from that Urban Outfitters store that’s in town I find myself starting to hope that there are more people who are going to come over or that I dropped the dime bag on the dance floor or something.
But more people don’t come over and I didn’t drop the dime bag and so instead we finish the coke without speaking and as he pours our third round of drinks I try to ask him about his job but he doesn’t have that much to say about it, other than he goes to it every day and fucked around with an intern that he had last summer, and then I ask him if he’s read anything good recently, and he reminds me about the Us Weekly, and he said there was an interesting story about this new form of liposuction, and I ask him if he likes literature and he shrugs and asks if Us Weekly can be classified as literature and I tell him that I don’t think it can be in the traditional sense so he tells me that no, no he doesn’t like reading and then he asks me if I’m going to go to this circuit party that’s going to be in town in two weeks and I tell him that I’ve never been to a circuit party and he laughs and tells me that I’m so young and statements like that really show my age and I ask him if that’s a bad thing and he grins and tells me that he’ll decide that after we go upstairs
and then suddenly I just want to leave I want to go home I want to get out of here and get out of my skin and hide and run but I can’t because he’s kissing me and pushing me against the bar and his rough skin hurts my face but I can’t tell him to stop and I can’t move and I shut my eyes harder than I ever have before and I let it happen because everyone else has told me this is what I want.
