Moments in time.Submitted by Spam at 2009-01-05 18:12:23 EST
Rating: 1.71 on 26 ratings (26 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
Yeah it’s a cliché… but I’d be lying if I said that my heart doesn’t skip a beat a little when I notice Emily standing next to me at the bar.
“Hi.” She says.
Her head tilts slightly to one side as she holds eyes with me and when I realize that I inexplicably find this cute, I know straight away that I’m in big fucking trouble because if I’m picking up on bullshit nuances like this then it must mean that I actually Like her so everything’s doomed to failure before we even start up.
I open my mouth to greet her but as I do the Bar-maid comes over for my order and while I’m happy with the 30 seconds this gives me to collect myself, for an instant, I hate her.
But she’s soon gone and we’re left alone again, so I turn to face her full-on and attempt a casual lean against the bar. And there’s a long bastard of a moment there where nobody says anything and everything feels awkward but her perfume has wafted over to me now and it’s stripped me of the scant wit I have remaining after the 9 or so hours of solid drinking, so Instead I just stand there and stare at her, take in her perfection.
Except it’s not perfection at all man, and that’s another sign that I’m fucked because if I was being really honest with you, I’d tell you that she could probably do with losing a few pounds and I can’t help but notice that her teeth are ever so slightly stained after however many years of abuse from nicotine and coffee.
And yeah, if I wasn’t sure of it before it’s a fucking certainty now because it's exactly these things about her that make her so fucking beautiful. For me anyway. And the stupid fucking lovestruck teenager inside me is already calculating it all out man, that those extra curves of hers have probably shaved her confidence a little over the years and so she’s not got any of the brash arrogance that makes the beautiful ones so ugly. And the only reason I’ve noticed the teeth is because whenever she smiles man, something inside me switches off and I’m left standing here mute, fucking up my one opportunity to turn all this potential in something that, just for once, might give me something to think about in the dark hours of the early morning other than how I’m slowly wasting this gift of ours called life.
And I've gotta face it friends, I really am throwing it all away, ruining it with too much booze and too many drugs, too many late nights running through to early mornings in places I don't recognise and can never find again to go back to. And the only thing I've got amongst all this wasted excess, all this superfluous nonsense that doesn't mean anything to me, is a brief series of moments of lucidity, moments where everything makes sense and I can find reason amongst all the drink addled muddle. And it sucks man, that all I've got, the only thing I can keep, are just these few moments in time.
Like on that sofa at the dog-end of the New Year's after party where for some reason, this beautiful stranger is sprawled on the sofa with her legs across me and everybody else is passed out and I'm just staring at her because as drunk as I am, I can't see any of the flaws that I'd later grow to love.
She notices my attention of course and when she mentions it to me, all I can think to do is apologise and carry on starring so she leans forward and her lips brush mine for the lightest of instants and for me, that's enough right there. And when the door opens and she pulls away from me with a start, the overriding feeling of wellbeing is worth the slight tinge of frustration that comes with it.
Yeah guys, of all my moments, that one is definitely one of my favorites.
There are others of course, like later that night in the cab where we catch eyes again and share another second of that charged silence before our lips touch and we just fold ourselves into each other, smiling occasionally through our kisses as we hear the cabbie chattering away unaware that we really couldn't give two fucks about how awful the weather’s been this night.
And even later still as she sleeps with her back to me and I spend timeless hours just lying there, marveling at her nakedness, occasionally tracing my finger idly across her side and over the exquisite curve of her hips, indulging in a light smile whenever she fidgets slightly feeling my caress through her slumber.
That was another good one.
And that's that man, nothing else over the last few months of debauched excess really matters, has any meaning to me. It's all just a syrupy blur of drink-muddled Nothing and as I stand with her at this bar and find myself falling into that thoughtless gaze again, I realize that even if I wanted to break the silence I couldn't because I'm totally lost now, all I can think about is how fucking long it's been since I was at the beginning of something this fucking good and couldn’t immediately see exactly what it is that's gonna go wrong this time.
But This moment though, this particular instant of adoration, has gone on too long - we've been here for a flat minute in total silence and her brow has furrowed slightly with a worried frown so guess I've gotta break the mood and spark up a conversation.
"Can I get you a drink?" I ask and there's a hint of a slur in my words and I sway slightly on the bar.
The amount of booze I've been charging my way through all evening starts to creep up on me and I begin to notice just how fucked up I am and the worst part is, I've probably been this way for at least the last three weeks.
And that frown of hers deepens at my question and she looks at me like I'm fucking insane or at least I think she does because to be fair, my vision's none-too-reliable all of a sudden.
"No thanks" She replies politely with the faintest hint of Sheffield in her accent that again, I find fucking adorable for no reason whatsoever.
But I don't hear the polite tone or the Yorkshire twist in her voice this time, all I hear is the flat rejection, the big No to the first thing I've said to her since that regretful New years morning when I untangled myself from her bed and kissed her soundly goodbye. And that No damn near kills me itself, man, but nowhere near as much as the look I see on her face, the lip-twisted sneer of contempt for the undesirable.
My casual lean against the bar has turned into something of a drunken slouch now as the booze leaks away my balance and co-ordination and the rejection saps all the strength from me.
And suddenly I don't wanna look at her anymore, this girl. Because for some reason, her simple reluctance to let me buy her a drink makes her the worst kind of whore I've ever known.
So I reply.
"Well go fuck yourself then. Cunt."
Yeah man. Life's all just a series of moments and I'll tell you right now for free, as I watch the tears well in her eyes and the confusion rock through her expression, that this one's not one I'm gonna wanna remember tomorrow.
But I'll fucking bet you my mortgage I do anyway.