The Diary of a Party Girl

1/26/19

It's 4am.

Fuck, I can't believe I made it back in time before grandma's first prayer of the day.
An hour into the party, I forgot why I got there in the first place. 

Let me backtrack.

Not long after saying each other's names, I was pressed up against a blue car door, kissing a boy that had curly brown hair and a cute dangling ear ring on his left lobe. He wasn't someone I thought I would marry, or really even date seriously. He kept calling me bitch as our first exchange. Jokingly, and always attached with a sorry once he noticed he wasn't around his bros. He tasted so sweet in the moment, so sincere in his declaration that he wanted to see me again that I almost forgot that he started off with an insult.

I wanted to believe his proposition and adornment.

However, I know already that he won't text me back after tomorrow morning.

I rubbed the front his jeans, sucked his face and jawline till my mouth went raw, and he still probably won't ever want to talk to me again.

No part of me was hurt in thinking that.

Nothing.

But it wasn't just nothing...

It was worse.

He had asked for my information. He begged for my social media platforms so he could see my personal life displayed in public display, ready to be viewed whenever he wanted to see me for a glimmer of a moment. I dumbly and foolishly believed that meant something - that it was weighted in something solid.

It wasn't. 

"Can you suck me dick?" he whispered. This, of all things, was what he asked when we were alone in the dark parking lot, slumped down on the cold wet pavement. The sidewalk was on an incline and it felt like we were on a ramp. I hated the shape of this city and all of its hilly, slopping roads. 

"I don't want to suck your dick." I said,"I've been drinking all night. I can't give consent."

"Yeah you can. You don't seem drunk."

"I am," I huffed. 

Why was I so dumb to jump to assumption that boys with nail polish were more sweet? I thought he would ask to court me, or say some more cute things in his soft voice. He was as perverted as the boys back home in Texas. He still wanted to subject me down to only a sex servant that needed to please him and the growing half tent barely forming in his pants. 

Even detailing it as "barely" a tent was being gracious and giving him too much to his name. Call me the Mother Theresa of Dick Descriptions.

"I'm not in the mood to do that - we don't know each other either. I don't know if you've gotten tested," I added quickly. A couple strolled up on the sidewalk, watching us for a second, but remaining to themselves. I wished they could've read my facial expressions and noticed the discomfort I felt in the presence of this boy.

"Let's go back to the party then," he suggested. He wiped his hands on his jeans, swiping off the mist that had settled on the cement. A small patch of his pants darkened from the moister. I waited to see if he would extend a hand out to me. He took one look down at me and then started walking.

We had cut through the crowd holding hands.

He held me close when we were moving through the bodies, telling me "Baby stay close."

Baby stay close, I echoed to myself. He's so kind.

I rushed after him.

I fucking hate how I ran to him.

I wanted his touch.

I wanted his attention.

Please look at me, the hurried footsteps seemed to mean. Please look at me and touch me like that again. We can go back to that. Please let's go back to that.

--

Inside the walls of the warehouse, he stops wanting to hold my hand.

He quits wanting to see if I'm having a good time.

He refuses to pay any mind to my movements and actions. 

I am a ghost.

Ten minutes pass.

I lose him in the masses.

Fifteen minutes pass. 

I start drinking again to forget his name.

Thirty minutes pass.

I see him in the corner again. I pretend I don't see the girl he is talking to.

Thirty five minutes pass.

I'm attentively watching him move his hands to an unconscious girl, slouching off a chair. 

Not even air can pass my lips.

My body goes to stone when he touches her breasts, kissing her red cheeks. She's hardly responsive. I can see that with her sloppy kisses and limp arms over his shoulders.

I was about to fall for a rapist.

"Hey," I turn to the man next to me. He's much taller than me and larger in size. If someone was going to break it apart, it couldn't be me. I would be seen as the jealous bitch who didn't want to give him a good time.

As fast as possible, I told him what happened to the two of us outside and what I had witnessed. "Look, look at how she's acting! She doesn't even have her eyes open when they're not kissing!"

He settled his drink down to the counter and walked to the guy I pointed out. 

I need to get the hell out of here. I need to get the hell out of this hellhole. 

The red light that filled the entire warehouse felt more sinister now.

I took out my phone. But only after I was certain the boy had detached the girl from that sick predator. I started to ordering a ride as quickly as I could after then. 

When I got home, I saw the time, seeing that it was already going into the morning. Officially, the night was over. 

I began writing out my night.