Last night, I was fairly tired and really not feeling like trekking to campus to go to the wall. But, I did. And I did it by myself. Not because I wanted to dance real bad. But because of one motherfucking boy that I wanted to see, that I wanted to talk to, that I wanted to hold and grab tight. He had blown me off earlier when I saw him at the dance performance, but I like the abuse, I love it - and so, I had to set myself up for more. Life would not have that same glow, if I could not pine after some boy who rejects me, if there was not that game, if I were not allowed to play this role of the heartbroken boy.
And just as the script calls for, here I go, rehashing it all for the eightieth or so time since it happened, reliving it one more time, feeling shunned for whatever perverse feeling of attraction it allows. Action!
I walk up to Andrew and Drew Geer who are standing next to each other talking. I peek my head between them, saying hi, or something lame, something silly and entirely inadequate. Drew asks me if I will make out with Andrew, and this bright neon glow begins to emit from my heart thinking that maybe Andrew had been talking about me, and I as casually as possible said, "Yeah, totally." And then Drew told Andrew that he owed him ten dollars. And then there was a roll of the eyes by Andrew and something like, "Charlie doesn't count." At which point in time, I pressed to find out what the bet was - and Andrew was going to pay Drew ten bucks if he could get a hot guy to make out with him. Appearantly, I was ineligible for this. And so, I joined the fun and tried to find a boy for Andrew to make out with, asking this slightly obnoxious internet buddy of Sam's who was really cute - and he said that he would, but then Andrew refused to go over there, saying that it would be weird and embarrasing. I kept on trying to cajole Andrew to quit being a pussy, and someone, I don't remember who, but some idiot asked me why I was trying to get the boy to make out with Andrew, and why I wasn't trying to make out with the boy. And they missed the point, the fucking point is that I don't give two shits about some silly hipster boy in cut off shorts, that the boy I wanted to make out with was Andrew, is Andrew. And Andrew rolled his eyes a few more times before very pointedly walking off to do something with Drew. And yeah, fuck walls, fuck you.
I shaved my head today to the scalp because it felt good, felt cleansing, and now I am going to bike slowly down US 41, make my way to Domino's and make pizzas for the next ten and a half hours, rehashing the scene some more to myself while I hum along to classic rock pumped out of a portable boombox that sits on top of the oven.
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