1991

1991 part 1

I fling open my wardrobe to search for something to wear. After trying on everything I own I'm so sweaty I have to jump back in the shower. Eventually I decide on a black mini skirt, black tights and a Cramps t-shirt. Nick and I may not be aligned sartorially but I can't abandon my first love of music for any boy, no matter how cute he is in his bright blue levis 501's. I opt for my favourite pair of Blundstones, giving my docs the night off. I leave my hair down, it's long now, halfway down my back, in messy, chestnut coloured waves. I check my face and apply some serious liquid eyeliner, lashings of black mascara making my blue eyes pop. I step back to assess my work. Not bad, my aim was somewhere between cute pixie and intimidating siren. I think I've done quite well. I grab my favourite stretched angora cardigan and rush out the door.

It's already over an hour since Kirsty called by the time I arrive. Fuck, I shouldn't have spent so long getting ready.  

"Where the fuck have you been Sam?" Kirsty meets me inside the entrance to the smoke-filled bar.

"Sorry, shit I'm sorry. I didn't know what to wear and then I couldn't find a cab. Anyway, I'm here now, where is he?" I look at Kirsty expectantly and notice her sheepish look.

"Uh, do you want a drink? Let's get you a drink first and then we can talk." Kirsty grabs my arm and heads to the bar. Confused, I follow.

"What the hell K? Is Nick here or not?" Kirsty is busy trying to get the barman's attention, ignoring me.

"Kirsty Geraldine Lewis!" I shout. Kirsty spins around.

"Hey! We agreed, no middle names." I stare daggers at her and as I do I glance over her shoulder. My heart flips. At the end of the bar I see him, Nick, in all his coiffed haired Jason Priestly 90210 glory, wearing a perfectly pressed shirt and a dazzling smile. Except he's not smiling at me, he's smiling to his side. To a girl, at his side. To my friend Becky to be exact.

"Sam, I'm so sorry." Kirsty is looking at me pityingly. My heart splashes into my Blundstones.

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Forty minutes later Kirsty and I are sitting in a booth, each nursing a vodka and coke.

"You were way too cool for that guy anyway." Kirsty has been doing this since we sat down, giving me reason after reason why I'm too good for Nick.

"He has zero edge for starters." 

I gulp my drink and think about what she's saying.

"What does that mean exactly, zero edge?' I ask, putting my empty glass on the table and signalling for another.

Kirsty perks up at my question. This is her favourite thing, amateur psychology. She prides herself on it. It's important to note that Kirsty's major is Music Theory. 

"Nick has no edge, therefore, in other words, he's not attractive. It's my new theory for the perfect guy." Kirst looks so pleased with herself, as though she's solved the secrets of the universe. 

"What are you talking about K?" I may have had two drinks in forty minutes but I'm not drunk enough for this to make sense. "I found him very attractive, like very, very." I feel tears spring and swallow hard.

Kirst looks at me pityingly, like I'm an injured puppy or a bit thick. 

"Don't get me wrong, you liked Nick and had a little crush, kinda like when you were in love with that guy off of Family Ties, but it's not the same thing."

I'm confused and I don't know why Kirst insists on doing little air quotes with her fingers when she says 'a little crush'. 

"Excuse me, but I really liked Nick, and Alex P.Keaton. I thought they were....sexy?" I don't know why it comes out like a question. I mean, I thought they were both cute. I think. Kirst rolls her eyes.