March 7, 2005
He’s probably here. He’s probably here. It’s all I can think as Hannah and I dance with Celeste, Kayla and Amy on the crowded dance floor. I’m trying, for once, not to scan every face that passes because I don’t want to see him. It’s weird because that’s the complete opposite of my typical response when in a crowd of college hotties. However if I see him tonight I just might cry due to the rollercoaster that is my emotional life right now.
As if the crazy irrational fear wasn’t enough, as if attempting to figure out guys wasn’t enough, as if having sex wasn’t enough, as if trying to do well in my shitty classes wasn’t enough, as if dealing with bitchy girls wasn’t enough. No, clearly I’m gonna be tested until my breaking point.
The idea of wallowing at home tonight was pretty appealing, but I fought it off because that’s what I’ve been doing all week. Sitting in my room stressed out of my mind about my classes and of course obsessing about the fact that I had drunken unprotected sex and a one night stand and oh yeah, I lost my virginity too. All in one glorious anxiety stricken fell swoop. Well done Victoria, A+ work. Now if only that kind of stellar grade could count for one of my actual classes.
And on top of all this, I’ve been crazy for years. Thank you heaven above for blessing me with so many redeeming qualities, all of which want to send me sprawling across the room with one massive frantic heart throbbing bitch slap. Tears prick my eyes but I bite them back, if such a thing is even possible with eyes. Swallow. Rip them from my eyes. Something. Cause I can’t cry.
The music bumps and people are having a hellafa-time around me. Grinding with one another, practically humping themselves silly on the dance floor. I hate you people. Hannah slides up to me and puts her arms around my neck cause apparently she’s noticed the impending tears and the hate stares I’m gifting to all the hoe-bags around me. The worst shit that can happen coupled with beer always seems to bring out the snarky best in me and really why not just let loose, this should be a party to celebrate my very first gyno appointment just the other day. I’m a big girl now who gets to wait for her STD test to come back! Partay!
“It’s okay Vicky. I know you feel like hell.” She frowns and then smiles, jerking her chin up at me to indicate that I should smile too. I try to smile…but I’m moving like a robot to the bumping rap song. This is so not normal for me. I try to smile again and almost succeed and she smiles and then leans in and gives me a big hug. She smells good, I’ll have to ask her what perfume she’s wearing. There ya go girl, buck up, care about unimportant shit like perfume. She pulls away and holds my hand and tries to get me to really dance. So I try for the sake of friendship to follow along.
I take a long luxurious gulp of my half full cup of beer with my free un-Hannahed hand and things are beginning to swim which is a nice feeling. Maybe I can forget, get totally trashed because not only is getting wasted the cure for all that ails me in the crazy department, it can also be a cure for depression and obsessive worry about pregnancy, STD’s and the fact that I haven’t talked to the guy I fucked. Nor has he talked to me or looked at me…or anything at all. In fact you could call it an averting of the eyes or inverting, a non-look when I passed him on campus the other day as I walked to class.
A new wave of black depression crashes over me like a tidal wave of shit and I take another long gulp and then another of my nasty-ass beer and before I’ve noticed what’s happening Kayla’s pushing a third of the night, slopping full Solo cup into my hand.
She grins at me, winks and then slaps my ass so that I jump and almost spill my drink. I smile against my will. I love these betches so much, cause they take care of me. Unlike asshole guys who fool with your feelings and then don’t speak to you.
How many freaking times is this going to happen to me? How stupid can I be? Don’t answer that, just don’t. We all know what kind of an idiot I am, riding the emotional rollercoaster from hell, a one way ticket, personalized for me by the universe or maybe by NASA. It’s like one of those haunted house rollercoasters. Up and down and through the terror house of freshman stupidity, hitting each major scary thrilling event on the way. All the good ones, and all at the exact same time. I have skills people. Hey and maybe if I get drunk enough tonight I can do something else stupid. I think it’s almost worth it just so I don’t have to be me for a little while.
I take another gulp from my cup and smile this wide crazy smile at Hannah and Kayla and really get into the song, shaking my ass. I’m fine. Everything is fan-freaking-tastic!