Love That Leaps Without A Shove

When my breathing got back to normal, I barged in the bathroom while Joe was sitting on the edge of the big porcelain bathtub. He was dressed this time.

“Okay, first of all… FUCK.”

He stood up casually. “Its nothing, big deal… its not like we had sex.”

“Sure, tell her that and see if she’d believe you after finding us in each other’s arms and you not wearing a shirt.”

Joe sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Some people don’t believe in friendship.”

“I’m one of them, remember? Since I’m still in love with you.”

“I’m not having this conversation again Lily… I know what’s right and what’s wrong. Leaving her on her wedding day is something I’d never do.” He exited the bathroom and left my room.

It felt empty and awkward in here, the way empty hotel rooms felt; especially when they were fancy. Here I was, alone, as always. Because I had given up on love back then and when I needed it the most, love decided to turn its back on me. Like that saying, what goes around comes around.

Maybe I was destined to receive an endless amount of slaps from that entity above that made all the important decisions. Karma or fate or God, whoever it was, it just didn’t like me. The higher powers had merged on the day I was born, aligning themselves in such a way that guaranteed pure fuckery. And even if I tried to redeem myself by consuming ridiculous amounts of Jesus Christ’s blood (aka wine), the bad cloud always hovered over me.

I failed at work, I failed at love, I failed at forming any kind of stable person in my life but the usual bartenders that felt sorry for me, that there was nothing else to do. If I failed in life, did the same apply to death?