And we sat there, me and her, for long hours. We just sat there. There was no flirting, no dirty talk, no touching – just staring. God, I couldn’t remember the last time I stared at a pretty face like that for so long.
It was almost like I’d forgotten the sensation; the feeling of being with a girl, or a person in general. I had confined myself to the darkness that was writing which, incidentally, turned out to be my only escape from the real world.
But now the real world looked beautiful – it was no longer dark and sad and morbid and gloom. It had long brown hair, chestnut eyes and sweet lips that were begging to be kissed.
I realized then and there how much of the world I’d missed. I’d grown into my habit of being a recluse, a drunk and a madman all together and retreated to my sanctuary where I quietly went on about my business of putting pen to paper.
But I had forgotten that the world too had moved on without me. I had forgotten that the world waited for no one to pick themselves up. It just marched on.
Bearing in my hand whatever was left of a brand new bottle of whiskey, I could tell a voice was ringing in my head, reminding me that the clock was ticking and that every moment wasted with that girl was time better spent back in my room hitting the pages.
Writing had become some sort of paranoia; a ceaseless alarm that wouldn’t stop ringing in my mind unless I actually got down to it and did the work. And for a while I was o.k. with that – hell, for some time that was exactly what I needed to find my own place again in this crazy messed-up life.
But even birds don’t fly all the time – even writers need a break. And I realized now was the time to take mine the moment I set my eyes on the hot girl in front of me.
Sure, I had a lot to drink, and sure, I was already insane, but even my eccentric self couldn’t disagree with me on this one: I needed to spend time with someone, to learn to interact with the real world again, to stay away from the written word for a while.
It had consumed most of me, and whatever was left of me decided the best thing was to sit down and have a drink with this girl.
Even the human soul has weaknesses, and I was simply answering to mine. As much as sitting with this girl had slowed down my creative mojo, not sitting with her was too great a sin – and one I couldn’t possibly bring myself to commit.
So we sat there. And we talked. And every time she spoke, I cursed my unlucky stars for not giving me good looks or money so that I could have those lips all to myself, everyday.
What would have gone wrong in the world had I been born more fortunate? More intelligent? Better looking? Richer? More talented?
Or maybe I had inherited my traits so that I’d be condemned to living my life as a solitary man.
Well, at least life didn’t take away from me the satisfaction of enjoying the fine taste of booze…
Anyhow, we talked and we drank and we laughed and we talked some more and then she asked me about my writing and how it was coming along, to which I replied that it was going great when in fact I hadn’t written a single word in weeks.
What are you writing about, she asked next, to which I confidently replied, ‘YOU’. Well, if I wasn’t born a handsome man there was no reason for me not to try to impress her with lies.
She blushed and licked that dangling drop of whiskey off my mustache before pressing her lips against mine and kissing me. It was a long, hot kiss that stopped the world for a while. All I could think was, ‘Fuck the world, fuck this country, fuck all the people and all the jobs, I just want to stay here and keep doing this forever’.
Although it was unclear to me as to what ‘this’ was, but hey, like I said, I was only half-sane (and that was usually when I didn’t drink).
So we kept kissing and kissing and I was given a reminder of the beautiful things that were out there in this world while I was in there in my room attempting to write. And then I wondered why the hell was I doing that? Was it to try to fix the world and make it better? But as far as I could tell the world was great as it was and it didn’t need any fixing as long as there were sexy bold women like that in it.
Eventually her phone rang and she excused herself saying it was urgent and went to the bathroom and locked the door. Now, me being a curious little prick, I decided to follow her and leaned close to the bathroom door and overheard her talking to her boyfriend or ex-boyfriend or whatever the hell the guy was to her. Apparently they had broken it off earlier after a long dispute and she was looking for a rebound and after she was done with me and heard a couple of nice words from him she decided to take him back.
I stepped away from the door, went back to the place where we were sitting and did a quick inspection. My jacket was lying on the floor next to the unfinished bottle of whiskey. I grabbed my jacket in one hand and the bottle in the other and snuck out of the house without making a sound.
To hell with this, I thought while taking a big gulp out of the bottle. What the hell is wrong with this broken world full of bold deceiving women?
I started to think the world was damaged and needed a lot of fixing…and the only way to do it was to go back into that forsaken room and write about it.
But first I decided to finish the bottle of whiskey and make a quick stop at the bar.
The world needed saving from pricks and assholes and sluts. But as far as I was concerned, it could wait a little longer.