On Writing…. 5/31/18

Just some of my writings…could go somewhere or not. I totally don’t know where this one is headed.

Blue Ain’t Your Color
“What do you mean?” I could see him staring at his drink across the room. He ignored my question as much as my stare. “I just cancelled all my plans for this trip that you promised we would take.”
He took a sip with a heavy, slow swallow. “I don’t think it’s the right time for us to leave town right now.”
“No.” I threw my keys on the glass table. “You just don’t want to distance yourself from the other girl.” I’d known he was cheating on me for the past two weeks. I just hadn’t wanted to believe it.
He dismissed my statement by looking out the window and refusing to reply.
“So that’s the way this is going to play out?” I looked around the apartment. We had only lived here for three months. It was going to suck paying the rent by myself. “I think you should leave.”
That got Adam’s attention. He finally turned fully around and faced me. “As in move out?”
I looked him over. God, he was gorgeous. And the sex was still good. I was going to miss his body. “Yes. I think you should move out.” Go mooch off your other woman. I didn’t want to turn this conversation ugly. He wasn’t worth my energy. I grabbed my purse and picked my keys back up. “I’ll give you the night to get your stuff out.” I didn’t think I could face the apartment all alone tonight, anyway.
“Where are you going?” Adam asked.
I gave a weak smile, sad and pitiful, certainly. “I think you lost the right to ask me those kind of questions.” I turned and left.
I drove around the city for an hour after trying to call my best friend, Betty. After getting her voicemail a few times, I decided to go see a movie. I considered getting a hotel room for the night. Maybe pamper myself a little. Lord knew I deserved some. After seven months with Adam, spending all my time with him, I’d not really focused on myself at all. Shit. I realized I’d not taken a change of clothes or anything.
I finally made the decision to skip on the movies and go straight to the hotel. I chose a ritzy one downtown. One with a bar. A drink or three sounded appealing. But I won’t drink myself into a stupor. Not over him.
After checking into the hotel, I went straight to the bar and ordered myself a Sex on the Beach. A little cliche but I loved the taste. It gave me stirrings of a happier past. One when I was younger. Single. Innocent. I almost laughed at that thought. I’ve never been innocent!
Looking around the bar, there was your regular clientale. Forty year old men who most likely removed their wedding bands and scoped the room for some action. Was I into something like that tonight, I wondered. There wasn’t anything wrong with getting back on the wagon, was there? My options didn’t look too terribly intriguing, unfortunately.
​ Two ladies, if one could call them that, sat down beside me.
“I was down on him for like thirty minutes. But jeez, everybody knows how whiskey dick is.” The red head said a little too loud.
“Ugh, I hate that! What do they expect when they start drinking?” the red head’s brunette friend asked, rhetorically.
“Right? I mean, jeez. And then you know what he said?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “He asked to go up my butt. As if!”
At that point, I’d lost my desire to finish my second drink and laid a twenty down before walking away. I was almost to the exit when a handsome man stepped in front of me. “I do apologie, Miss. I’ve called security. We don’t allow that type in the hotel, I can assure you.”
“No problem.” I stepped aside to let him pass. I didn’t wait to hear the confrontation the hotel employee would surely receive from the two women. I hit the elevator button to go up and waiting. Just then, my cellphone rang. I checked it,even though I knew it was Betty.
“Hey girl,what’s up?” Betty asked.
I didn’t want to get into the story of Adam’s betrayal at midnight so I shrugged it off. “Just checking in to see how your interview went today.” Betty had interviewed for a blog writing position. She was an excellent writer but was severely hurting for job opportunities.
“Nah. Wasn’t a good fit for me.”
I knew that was her way of saying they didn’t offer her the job. “Aww, sorry girl. You’ll find the right job. It’s out there.” I wanted to be as supportive as I could, but I also knew the reality of job prospects. I’d gotten lucky last year when I found a magazine willing to take me on for a question and answer forum for their website and recipe writer or their magazine. It brought in just enough to survive, but not much more. ​

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