This is Different

As soon as I saw you dancing, I knew it was over.

My search for the next one was complete. It couldn’t have been more obvious that you were the person I was taking home that night. I was going to have you, even if I had to knock you unconscious and drag you out. Okay, I wasn’t going to go that far; that’s just not me. But I would go to any legal measures to cajole you into being mine for tonight.

In that dank club, I couldn’t help but wonder why you chose this place to flaunt yourself in anyway. I mean, it’s dirty, the bar service sucks, and it’s in one of the worst areas of the city. Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t put themselves in such danger as you did by coming here tonight. You could meet worse things than me.

I’m not a bad person. I’m not good either.

I finally got my chance to lure you in when you came up to the bar to order - what I presumed - was your fourth drink. It was weird, because all of a sudden, I felt really nervous to talk to you, like you would be better off if I didn’t bother you. That never happened before, and it threw me off. So when I finally managed to get my words out, I stuttered like a fool.

“W-what’re you drinking?”

You glanced up with those hazel eyes, and a light laugh escaped your lips, presumably because of my stupid voice. I hated myself right then, but not too harshly, because I wanted to hear your laugh again.

“Vodka on the rocks, actually.” I almost fucking facepalmed myself right there. As if I couldn’t see that that’s what you were drinking! It also occurred to me that you had probably laughed at my stupidity, and not my stuttering. What the fuck was my problem tonight? I feebly attempted to redeem myself.

“Ah, right. I suppose I could have guess. Let me get it for you.” I quickly threw a ten at the greasy bartender who was standing there, watching the entire awkward encounter, greedily awaiting his money.

“I’m Gerard, by the way.” I offered my best ‘I’m not embarrassed’ smile and hoped that it would suffice. When you returned the smile, and told me your name was Frank, I knew my stupidity wasn’t going to stand in the way of getting what I wanted. We talked at the bar for a while, and I learned a lot about you. Of your band, that you were in college, how you hated your job. When you talk, you use your hands, and listen so intently when I said something, as if it were worth listening to. I never noticed very much about the others; never took the time to get to know a little bit about them besides if they were clean or not. I always use a condom, so it never mattered anyway, but this was different. I didn’t need to ask you about any of that; it never even crossed my mind.

We eventually ended up on the dance floor, grinding, and just passing time. You’re a good dancer for being so small. It was surprising.

Once the grinding got to be too much for me to handle, I finally made the next move and asked you to come back to my apartment for the night. You seemed a little skeptical, but for whatever reason, you accepted anyway, and that nervous feeling crept up in my stomach again.

When we got to my apartment, things were awkwardly slow. But it happened. I got what I wanted. I felt unsatisfied, and I couldn't come up with a good reason why.

But as I watched you sleeping next to me, I came to the realization that this wasn’t going to be like every other time. I wasn't going to let you become another one of those nameless, pointless nobodies. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I wanted you to stay around. Something about you made me see things differently. Just your presence was making me rethink the way I live, and how I do things. This was enough to satisfy that almost insatiable need in me.

And at that moment, I knew I was never going back to that club, ever again.