Alley Cat
quick fiction ;p
I am going to fucking kill myself. Wait no nevermind I am actually really really normal. Last night I had sex in the most 2009 way possible (I was wearing tube socks). We had met five months prior and last night we rekindled our romance. He was my second rebound after my devastating break up with my musician boyfriend. It’s hard to get over someone that keeps getting recommended to you on Spotify. Since my devastating break up I have really focused on healing. By healing I mean dancing in bars, drinking vodka sodas, crying at fast casual Mexican food restaurants, and crashing parties of problematic podcast hosts.
I walk into the night swinging my hips like an alley cat. I cry out for the boys and they come running. When they pick me up, I sink my teeth into their arms. Last night, Ben fell for my old charm and he took me in for the night.
“This feels so porn-coded” I laughed while laying in just my tube socks, “should we role-play?”
“Sure” he said hovering his body over mine
“I’m the cheer captain and I can’t believe I’m about to fuck….” I looked at him up and down, “the school janitor”
“What the fuck?” he responded
“You’re the one wearing Carhartt” I said defensively
After, it’s usually sweet and tender. Part of me wonders if that’s the trade off. I remember what it is like to be in love and I am so good at being in love. The kisses on the cheek in the morning after his alarm goes off and running my hands through his hair. I am better at being in love than I am at being a person.
While laying there in our summer sweet sweat, mimicking love I realized that I considered us more like longtime old pals than passionate lovers. Like we were two young boys who once shared a passionate homosexual experience at summer camp and went on to marry other women and never speak of it again but one day I call him on the phone 20 years later and it’s the same as old times “How the hell are you David” “You haven't changed a bit Robert” That being said, I think that might make him my one true love of my life. I told Ben all of this and he really did not like it and he dropped me off. The car ride was silent.
When I was dropped off to the wilderness of Silverlake I decided to get an ice coffee and a pastry. I went to the millennial pink coffee shop where they sell drinks called “Defund the Military'' (matcha, expresso, cocoa powder, bourbon vanilla, and milk.) Defunding the military costs $12 with oat milk. Being in love cost me my dignity and livelihood.
While sipping on Defunding the Military I reflected on my goals. I need to see how far I can take things. I need to be the sluttiest school teacher in all of Los Angeles. I need to be the most popular girl on the east side and the most hated girl on the west side. Specifically Westchester. More specifically at LAX Pizza. Los Angeles loves me because of my pretty face and I love Los Angeles back because I don’t have to try so hard.
Last night a 30 year old woman who was was talking to me about freezing her eggs. I decided I couldn’t listen, no need to discuss issues of mortality while wearing tube socks. I scurried to the dance floor. That night I decided I would have sex in a way that could never ethically produce a baby. Unfortunately, everything I have ever done is the right decision, even the bad ones. I’m in the 27 club because I’m on my second life.
I am swinging my hips towards my final days. I do not eat, I do not sleep, I barely breathe. I get a cold once a month. I get fleas twice a month. I twirl under disco lights. Sometimes when I think about the future I only see darkness. I lift my arms up to the disco heaven lights. Sometimes it reaches back to me. I twirl around the dance floor. I keep twirling, twirling and twirling and every time I think I am about to fall, someone grabs my arms and takes me home.