Where are my fucking shoes?
At this point, I wasn't sure if this situation was funny or tragic,
but I had to find my shoes and get the fuck out before he wakes up.
—
15 hours earlier —
The London way of saying I'm back without calling someone
is an IG story: fancy corner, window reflection, click, post, wait.
The ridiculous sun kept shining,
and the streets were full of people and vibrance.
Until I reached my favourite Portobello Road for coffee and a pastry,
I already had three messages:
"Wow, you're here?"
Friends? No.
Just random subscribers for a time-out and a drink.
Or maybe that's what I needed —
gossip, high heels, and someone else's drama.
El was one of them.
Fun girl, but only available when single.
And she was — freshly devastated.
We met at the Scarlet Room in Soho.
Black dress, by default.
Little makeup and a tiny lip gloss — always.
—From one drink to the fifth, I somehow stopped thinking about him.
I don't know if I was actually preferring someone else's company
or was scared as fuck to call him —
be refused, or even worse, look at him and not see him.
While El was dramatising about the many times she changed her mind
about breaking up with the guy and getting back with him, I told myself:
How selfish. Just make up your mind or leave the guy alone.
And then it hit me.
Wasn't I doing the same?
After I fucked up the first person in my life worth working on myself for,
I chose to show him the worst of me and then blame him for not handling
it.
Now he may be seeing someone else, moved on, and having a life.
But here I am again, needing my closure.
It's Adele's fault —
that bloody "Hello, it's me" is still stuck in my head
like every story has a good ending.
But it doesn't.
—
While I was sipping my fourth vodka, I was thinking:
sometimes the best thing you can do for someone you love
is to leave them alone.
And I did really love him, I swear to God,
more than myself.
But the weight of receiving it was impossible to carry
for the girl I was."Can we have two of the same, please?"
I said to the waiter,
clearly making up my mind that my brain would explode
if I didn't stop thinking about him —
mainly if I didn't stop thinking about how wrong it is
to contact him now or ever.
And maybe it's finally my turn to show my love by staying a ghost of the
past.
Scratch Adele, we are going full hip-hop tonight.
—
El took me somewhere —
at that point, I didn't even know where.
I just needed to dance my mind away.
But when the coyote smells a wounded heart, they strike.
Three songs later, and a cute Spanish guy.
I needed to be kissed.
So I let him.
His flattering hit me at the right spot —
low confidence and confused emotions.
I didn't care.
—
6am.
I woke up in his flat.
It took me a second to realise where I was, rewind, and feel empty.That's not the man I wanted to lie next to.
But I must admit, it was a good catch —
not only that, but a great kisser.
Not the usual bad boys I choose.
This one looked lovable.
So the first thing that came to mind was to find my shoes and run.