Status: heartbroken.
When You Are Not the Starring Role In Someone Else's Heart
...when you're in my bed...
You all know that can't be the end of the story. It gives it all away before the first chapter. I see him again. I actually see him that same night. It was a Tuesday night. I was still pretty hungover and pissed off at Sequoia. I was playing, "Bubblegum Bitch," by Marina and the Diamonds acoustic. The perfect song to claim your womanly independence and say, "I'm gonna be a heartbreaker and a bitch and play with your mind and screw you over because I'm hot." It was weird that it wasn't as electronic and pop as it was meant to be, but I only had me and my guitar on stage. The people seemed to like it. I got a quarter in my guitar case from it. But anyway, Sequoia walks in the shop near the end of the second chorus. He looked taken back, like the elderly couples in the back of the coffee house sipping their decaf.
This time, I extended the show a little more than usual. Usually, I play from 9 until 10 and the coffee house closes at 11. Tonight, I played until quarter to 11. There was only me, Bjorn, and Sequoia left in the room by the time the manager told me to stop playing. He told me he'd pay me a little extra for my troubles if I just stopped. And I did just that; I dropped my guitar back in its case, put it in the back of the room, and walked out without the paycheck. I had $20 in my pocket and that'd get me enough gas to get me home and back in the afternoon.
I just didn't want to run into that man-whore who didn't have the decency to let me know he wasn't into me. He didn't stop be. And now he's on my ass. Like, am I in the wrong here? Am I overreacting? Was it too soon to tell him to fuck off? Should I give him a chance?! Like--- my head is just running and running in circles. Because on one hand... Mother, may I! God damn, is he gorgeous! And on the other hand, since he is that gorgeous, why the hell would he be into me? I'm average! I'm not beautiful like Katrin-- not atrocious like.. some people. I'm just average-looking. The guy knows me for five minutes and thinks he has me figured out.
Walking out of the coffee house and driving home, I was debating whether it was a good time to leave. I mean, I had been in Iceland for about a year. I'm twenty now. This is the longest I have stayed in a country. I was supposed to go to Greenland and bundle up and sing until my nose is running. But instead I'm doing what I really dread. I was settling down. I liked going out on the weekends and partying with Katrin. I liked coming into the coffee shop in the afternoon and singing to the mellow crowd. I liked talking with Bjorn about fame and pop culture. I even liked that high school feeling of liking a guy and wondering if he's into you or playing mind-games.
Once I got to my apartment, I parked the car and ran right up the stairs into my one bedroom masterpiece. I had a roommate when I first moved in named Anna. She had moved in with her boyfriend about three weeks after I moved in and said she'd keep paying her half of the rent checks until I found someone to live with me. I haven't even started looking. I only have to pay half the rent and still live in the apartment by myself. The one bad thing about this place is that with a roommate, you have to share the bedroom. So for the first few weeks, I slept on the couch. But, the place is all furnished from Anna and there's fine modern art lining the walls and weird vases on all the end tables. I couldn't ask for a better place to live. Another reason I just don't want to live.
The first thing I do is strip right in the living room and toss the clothes on the bathroom floor. Then, I covered myself with my arms and hurried into my bedroom. Dressing in my finest sweatpants and tank top, I went on a hunt to find my cell phone. I do this every goddamn night, by the way. After finding it in the last place I looked, my PURSE, I called Katrin. She didn't answer, as usual, so I hung up and called her back. She didn't pick up again. That's weird--- she usually picks up the second time. Then I remembered that she's got that anniversary party to go to.
Bummed out, I turned on the TV and realized I didn't pay the cable bill. Well, there goes my night. Usually, I'd call Katrin and crash at her place to watch TV and ruin her plans. But, she's not there. Instead of calling the cable company and getting my TV back, I put on a bra, grabbed some cash, and headed downstairs and left the building. I'll get some takeout and magazines and have a lonely night eating and reading in bed.
But, as soon as I got out the door and onto the street, I saw that dumbass Sequoia Harvard flashing that stupid crooked smile at me.
"What'd you do? Stalk me?" I said, stepping closer to him.
"John or whatever sent me to give you your check. You're welcome."
"It's Bjorn. And I was just on my way to get it. So, you just kinda ruined my big plans for tonight," I said, grabbing the check out of his hands.
"Then how about I buy you a drink, Miss Fancy Sweatpants," he said giggling. A fucking giggle. I hate how fucking adorable this douchebag is.
"No, thanks. No offence, but I'd rather watch a dog take a shit," I said, crossing my arms and flashing him a fake smile.
"Oh, no offence taken!" he said sarcastically, "Come on. One drink. On me. You wanna go get changed?"
"I'm plenty comfortable."
"Well..... you look great," he said, extending his arm and pointing at the stains on my tank top.
"I do, don't I?" I grinned, "Alright. One drink. You're paying."
This time, I extended the show a little more than usual. Usually, I play from 9 until 10 and the coffee house closes at 11. Tonight, I played until quarter to 11. There was only me, Bjorn, and Sequoia left in the room by the time the manager told me to stop playing. He told me he'd pay me a little extra for my troubles if I just stopped. And I did just that; I dropped my guitar back in its case, put it in the back of the room, and walked out without the paycheck. I had $20 in my pocket and that'd get me enough gas to get me home and back in the afternoon.
I just didn't want to run into that man-whore who didn't have the decency to let me know he wasn't into me. He didn't stop be. And now he's on my ass. Like, am I in the wrong here? Am I overreacting? Was it too soon to tell him to fuck off? Should I give him a chance?! Like--- my head is just running and running in circles. Because on one hand... Mother, may I! God damn, is he gorgeous! And on the other hand, since he is that gorgeous, why the hell would he be into me? I'm average! I'm not beautiful like Katrin-- not atrocious like.. some people. I'm just average-looking. The guy knows me for five minutes and thinks he has me figured out.
Walking out of the coffee house and driving home, I was debating whether it was a good time to leave. I mean, I had been in Iceland for about a year. I'm twenty now. This is the longest I have stayed in a country. I was supposed to go to Greenland and bundle up and sing until my nose is running. But instead I'm doing what I really dread. I was settling down. I liked going out on the weekends and partying with Katrin. I liked coming into the coffee shop in the afternoon and singing to the mellow crowd. I liked talking with Bjorn about fame and pop culture. I even liked that high school feeling of liking a guy and wondering if he's into you or playing mind-games.
Once I got to my apartment, I parked the car and ran right up the stairs into my one bedroom masterpiece. I had a roommate when I first moved in named Anna. She had moved in with her boyfriend about three weeks after I moved in and said she'd keep paying her half of the rent checks until I found someone to live with me. I haven't even started looking. I only have to pay half the rent and still live in the apartment by myself. The one bad thing about this place is that with a roommate, you have to share the bedroom. So for the first few weeks, I slept on the couch. But, the place is all furnished from Anna and there's fine modern art lining the walls and weird vases on all the end tables. I couldn't ask for a better place to live. Another reason I just don't want to live.
The first thing I do is strip right in the living room and toss the clothes on the bathroom floor. Then, I covered myself with my arms and hurried into my bedroom. Dressing in my finest sweatpants and tank top, I went on a hunt to find my cell phone. I do this every goddamn night, by the way. After finding it in the last place I looked, my PURSE, I called Katrin. She didn't answer, as usual, so I hung up and called her back. She didn't pick up again. That's weird--- she usually picks up the second time. Then I remembered that she's got that anniversary party to go to.
Bummed out, I turned on the TV and realized I didn't pay the cable bill. Well, there goes my night. Usually, I'd call Katrin and crash at her place to watch TV and ruin her plans. But, she's not there. Instead of calling the cable company and getting my TV back, I put on a bra, grabbed some cash, and headed downstairs and left the building. I'll get some takeout and magazines and have a lonely night eating and reading in bed.
But, as soon as I got out the door and onto the street, I saw that dumbass Sequoia Harvard flashing that stupid crooked smile at me.
"What'd you do? Stalk me?" I said, stepping closer to him.
"John or whatever sent me to give you your check. You're welcome."
"It's Bjorn. And I was just on my way to get it. So, you just kinda ruined my big plans for tonight," I said, grabbing the check out of his hands.
"Then how about I buy you a drink, Miss Fancy Sweatpants," he said giggling. A fucking giggle. I hate how fucking adorable this douchebag is.
"No, thanks. No offence, but I'd rather watch a dog take a shit," I said, crossing my arms and flashing him a fake smile.
"Oh, no offence taken!" he said sarcastically, "Come on. One drink. On me. You wanna go get changed?"
"I'm plenty comfortable."
"Well..... you look great," he said, extending his arm and pointing at the stains on my tank top.
"I do, don't I?" I grinned, "Alright. One drink. You're paying."