Page 1: I got drunk at Anne's and Jen was there
Page 2: Well, I didn't think all that, though
Page 3: But maybe Jen and I would have laughed about that
I got drunk at Anne's and Jen was there.
Most people probably don't realize I'm getting drunk because I just have one thing. But I'm small and I don't drink often, so one thing is enough. It gets me drunk. I don't do it too often but I like the way it feels– going to Anne's, sitting by myself, getting drunk. It's this really enjoyable kind of lonely.
Today Jen came in there. He sat by the window, and he was by himself too. Drinking coffee. Jen's the best lyricist I've ever met– there are better, better even from here, but I've never been introduced to them. He's great on stage, too. He probably wouldn't remember me, but I didn't want him to. I just hoped that he would come over to my table and talk to me, a fascinating stranger, someone who seemed like him, alone in Anne's at 5 on a Wednesday. I would have pretended I didn't know him for a while– not lied, just not said anything about all the concerts I'd been to, that Alex had introduced us one night years ago, that he'd tried to talk to me but I had been too drunk and shy. Then Jen would say something like, damn, I don't remember, and I'd say "that's good", an awkward joke. He'd appreciate that, I think.
Well, I didn't think all that, though– I'm not crazy. I was doing my own thing, getting ready to go home. I don't know if he watched me when I put my jacket on but I remember thinking that if he did he would have liked it– liked my jacket and the way I put it on, I mean. I thought that, just casually. I didn't look at him when I left, except quickly to make sure he was alone and not with that girl in the black who'd come in–he wasn't; I don't know if he saw that, if he had watched me enough to notice my awareness of him. Maybe. It was pretty bright in Anne's, and that's what people do when they go out alone, look at other people, right?
I always start to feel weird when I go out alone, kind of awkward and desperate, and if I drink then I'm drunk and I never know how obvious I am. Like today, maybe everyone in Anne's knew how much I wanted Jen to sit down next to me. And I'm so stupid, I wore my leather jacket. Idiot. You don't wear leather to a vegan bar, they're probably constantly aware of that stuff.
Then again, maybe Jen and I would have laughed about that. He doesn't seem as militant as some of his friends. Besides, I stole this jacket– I didn't skin the animal myself.
Nobody's ever convinced me that there's a point to sticking to a certain set of principals, but maybe Jen could. I'd hear him out, anyway, I'd listen to his opinions. I'd keep shaving my legs though, and I hope he could accept that. Even love it, because it was me doing it. I mean, it's my choice.
I walked home from Anne's with my chin tucked into the collar of my jacket and my hands in my pockets. I had a song by Jen's band stuck in my head, but I couldn't remember the words.