if you get tired of the music he likes/there’s always other boys
I could see she was in trouble. Our happy little party chatter had turned far too deep and introspective for her liking. He was getting too close, digging too deep and making her uncomfortable. As usual, vodka was to blame. We had met only hours before but the bonds of womanly sisterhood compelled me to come to her rescue the same way she had mine when she spied me standing alone on the patio, looking for trouble just in case it didn’t come calling.
I turned the tables on myself. He didn’t know me that well, couldn’t have that much to say about me. As he took a breath from saying that she’d never let anyone in her life, never let anyone really love her, I offered up that while he was charting life courses he was free to create one for me, as I was finding myself a bit adrift.
He turned to me, pointing a finger squarely at me and said “You know what your problem is? You have no fucking clue what you want. You’re sitting here waiting for the wrong. fucking. thing. You’re too goddamn beautiful for that. You keep making the same mistake over and over again and nothing ever changes. You both do.”
Stunned and speechless, I fell back into my chair with eyes wide and took a swig of my Shiner. Who the fuck was this man to so accurately call me out on my shit like that?
In his later tales, he shared with us a Spanish phrase that translates to “There is no bad that some good can not come of it.” It was the perfect way to sum up my night; as things didn’t go at all as planned – that waiting bit – but I did make a new friend. As our sage went to refill his drink and acquire more beers for us, she and I exchanged numbers and discussed getting together. “I can tell you this much” I said, “If what he said about you is true, we’re going to get along great.”