Friday Nights
Where do I begin?
Depressed, lonely yet surrounded by people, angry yet not, anxious yet silent, compulsively lying when there’s nothing to hide.
These are traits I deal with on the daily. Even my therapist doesn’t know the extent of it.
Sad truth isn’t it?
But isn’t that what we all do? Lie when convenient. Sleep with someone when we feel alone, kick them out when we want to feel alone and be mad when they find someone else. What do we truly want? What do I truly want?
“Nora.” My colleague, Daniel, called out. I looked up at him emotionlessly from my desk. I saw his face scrunching up in confusion at my face. I quickly straightened up, realizing the expression I was giving out and smiled brightly.
“Hey! How can I help?” I said cheerfully. I always need to up a cheerful front at my office, I know I’d be hated throughout the office if I was me. No one ever liked me for me anyways. No one really knows me.
He smiled. “Positive as always. Listen, can you-” another pile of work you can’t be bothered doing? Sure. I would say no but then I’d look like an asshole and my positive front here would be blown. I always just take it up the ass, don’t I?
I nodded slowly at the documents he passed down to me and smiled up at him. “I’ll sort it out! Don’t you worry about it.” I hate me. Daniel sighed with feign relief and thanked me, calling me the best coworker ever. He knew I wouldn’t turn him down. He does this every Friday, just an hour before leaving the office like clockwork, while I’m stuck here for another 2 hours dealing with his bullshit. Why do I do this to myself? I repeat to myself 14 times mentally.
After seeing him walk back to his desk, I quickly get back to work, glaring at my screen. I always tell myself that I want to quit. I also want to jump off the roof of this building but I’ll never do any of those things, cause I kinda wanna live, love to eat and it’d be too much to deal with.
Just think about it – suicide, as easy as it seems, there’s too much backlash. One, if you have parents that are still alive, they’ll be sad. Worse if you don’t have siblings cause who’s gonna take care of them if you’re gone? If only I had a sibling, that’d be a burden off my shoulder. I know, I sound like a terrible person for thinking about my parents being alive is a burden but if you’ve felt the way I’ve felt for 26 years, you’d get it.
No, my parents weren’t bad. They were nurturing…good people, let me have my freedom within responsible guidelines. I just…hated my life. There was always something missing, something making me lose my sense of self. Probably all the weed I smoked in college…but then again, I felt the same shit in High School too, nevermind.
I sighed deeply. It’s been 2 hours, like damn clockwork, finished for the day. Just another Friday in my mundane life within the confines of my workspace at Redfield Marketing Associates. I looked around my empty office, seeing only one desk light on at the other side of the office. Warren, always at the office until late. Every. Damn. Day. I shook my head silently, feeling sorry for the guy. I mean I get it, you work hard, but no one and I mean no one in this damn building appreciates it.
Trust me, I saw him when I first started out and became him, when I realized I got nothing out of it, not even overtime, I just stopped. No point in over doing anything when you get nothing in return.
I packed my stuff in my handbag and began walking out, as always, I waved to Warren. “Bye Warren!” I said. All I get is a wave, his eyes never parting from the laptop screen. I shook my head at him again, internally. He has to be avoiding something. Does he have a wife and kids? That’d make sense.
--
I walked down the street until I got about 20 blocks away from my office and looked around the street at the different faces surrounding me, eyeing for familiar faces from my office. When I saw none, I stopped at the deli nearby the subway station I always use and whipped out my daily cigarette. Fuck, I needed this. I inhaled the smoke deeply and blew. It was the best feeling after a long day of faking every expression I have, every week from 9 to 5. I sighed deeply as I watched the city folk walking past me, moving on with their lives, doing god knows what with god knows who with god knows what drama.
I shook my head at the thought and put out my finished cig on the ground. I walked inside the deli and ordered my usual and made my way home.
Once I got home, I laid down on my couch for a good minute, staring at the ceiling. I usually do this, for some reason it brings me solace to just stare at absolutely nothing. Even with the bustling city noise. It was somehow peaceful. I know if I decided to go to an isolated cabin for a random weekend to ‘relax’, I’d hate it. I always tell ‘friends’ and co-workers it’d be amazing for me to do, peaceful even. In reality, I can’t stand the quiet.
For years, I’ve never been able to sleep without something playing in the background. I needed noise, the noise of people talking, or doing something. Some reason I guess it was the fact that even though I hated faking everything about myself, I still enjoyed being a part of something….
Or maybe I just like to hear people talk about dumb shit, fuck if I know.
I groaned and ate my sandwich while watching something random on TLC, I was rather completely focused on my phone. Watching random stories on Instagram. People I know, knew, dated, never met.
I watch them live their lives. Was it real? What was really going on behind closed doors? I always wonder, because I know damn well my Instagram feed is just me at my best self. Smiling bright with random backgrounds and people I either hate or like but can’t ever be myself around or just random selfies I took whenever I struggled with accepting my own beauty. Yep, I seek validation every now and then.
I threw the foil in the trash and immediately hopped into the shower, prepping to go to the usual place where I can be my usual scowling, depressed, loner self on a Friday night.
--
Rick’s Bar, one of the most casual bars in Brooklyn. Then again, when are bars never casual. I walked in, waving emotionlessly at Rick. The man manages the bar and owns the place. Never seen the guy take an off day. He spotted my wave and nodded in response, already prepping my drink.
Why do I come here every Friday, you ask? There’s a new performer humiliating themselves every night, that’s why. Do I laugh though? Not really but it reminds me to never try and ever perform in an effort to get famous.
Especially when comics show up, sheeesh, now there’s where you get either a big hit or a largest fucking shit hole of a miss. Cause when you mess up here while doing comedy? You literally get shoved off the stage and it is sad. But then again, the bar is almost never full and it relaxes me. Easier to listen in on drama or figure out people’s lives just by eyeing them.
I know, again, I sound like a shitty person. But this isn’t a story about me living the best life with perfect mental health, a shit ton of money and my nonexistent boyfriend with a magical peni-
“Hi.” A man’s voice called out just as Rick laid down my diet coke and whiskey in front of me. I turned to face the dude who thought it was a good idea to approach me in this state. I wasn’t even dressed to meet anyone. I had on black yoga pants, a sports bra with a zip up hoodie and zero make up. My hair even looked terrible tied up. Do I just look like an easy target?
I groaned internally for the 500th time today. The guy was good looking but this was not a night where I wanted someone to sleep in my bed with me…and I didn’t shave. “I’m Alex. I see you come here all the time; thought I’d say hi.” He said with a nervous smile. I internally cringed. I have a habit of hating men who chase me but love it when a guy ignores me or is emotionally unavailable. It’s a sad process, lots of heartbreak. You’ll find out more later on.
Time for bitch mode, this was my place where I can be asshole-emotionless me. “Well, you said it. Thanks.” I sent him a tight smile and turned on the stool to face the stage where someone was prepping to perform. I raised an eyebrow at the guitar the girl was holding. Music this time, eh?
I heard the guy beside me stammering to say something else until Rick said there was a phone call for him. I turned to Rick as the guy walked towards the phone on the other side of the bar. “You’re welcome.” He said while looking down at his hands wiping the bar top.
I nodded, looking impressed. “Looking out for little ol’ me?” I asked, nonchalantly.
Rick shrugged, still looking down at his rag. “You’re one of my best tippers.” He said, finally looking up at me, sending me a blank expression.
I laughed. “Thanks.” He sent me a surprised look. “Something the matter?”
He smiled and picked up a bottle of gin and a glass. “First time I seen you laugh.”
I scoffed. “I laugh.” I said, immediately feeling unsure of myself. I think.
He scoffed in response, mimicking me. “Nope, not even during the funniest comic sets.” He said while pouring a drink. “You just scoff and smile. Rest of the time you’re just brooding.” I was taken aback. I decided to take a good look at Rick this time. First time I ever spoke to him, besides the time I first walked into this place. Was also the first time I ever seen the guy smile…or was I just never looking? I asked myself. Rick looked hot and haggard, in a good way but I wouldn’t smash. He seemed like he’d get attached and would wanna know ‘me’…plus, it would ruin the perfect dynamic we have.
I come in, he gives me my drink, I watch the performances, I have another drink, people watch and leave when I finally get bored. Simple.
“You also leave at exactly 10:30pm. Like clockwork.” He continued as he slid the drink to the customer nearby me. “Only on certain occasions I see you leaving a little bit earlier. Guessing those are when you have dates cause those nights, you actually wear makeup.” This dickwad has been watching me. “You’re a strange one.” I could tell by his expression he seemed like he was aiming to flirt, I narrowed my eyes and nodded.
I pursed my lips. “Well-” Out with it then, scare him away to keep the dynamic. “I’m depressed, hate when I have friends, hate when I don’t. Hate when I’m dating and hate when I don’t. I also hate myself.” I said. “The days I come here give me a chance to observe and overthink things that are not myself or my horrible personality.” I sent him a fake smile. “So that’s that. Not strange, just sad.”
Rick stared at me, his expression not changing. He was damn amused and I began to hate it. “That is sad.” He responded, not tearing his eyes away from mine. “Glad you chose my bar, though.” He finally turned away from me and walked over to serve another customer with a smirk.
My face turned completely red. It was then that I started to hate his guts.
Why, you ask?
Because in that moment, I wanted to sleep with him.
