| Naughty Librarian |
[Jul. 15th, 2007|04:08 pm] |
I made many fatal errors last night. The last fatal error of the night took place at 4am. It is now 4pm the following day, and the twelve hours in between have been devoted to finding ways to alleviate the overwhelming desire to punch myself in the face--besides punching myself in the face.
I despise running, but I went for a 30 minute run at noon. And the more I thought about what a stupid fuck-up I am, the harder I ran. It felt good in the way that I think punching myself in the face would. I listened to Frank Sinatra on my headphones, and sometimes I jumped over branches as if they were hurdles, when the music was really swinging.
Last night ended like this: It was 4:30 am. I was standing in the alley behind my house wearing only high heels and an unzipped bright-orange-tropical-print mini-dress and huge black hoop earrings. My hair still looked perfect, because of my over-use of hairspray and gel, but my bright red lipstick was smeared in an arc under my mouth. I was talking to Honey's answering machine trying to say this: "I left because I thought you were running away from me, because that is what you always do. But really all I want is just to have an honest conversation with you, because I feel like I am never being very honest with you. So, hopefully since you are back in Chicago now, we can have a conversation. And I hope that you will call me. And I hope that you have a good night."
However, I don't think it sounded quite that concise, because after I got out the first sentence, a giant black dog came trotting down the alley and put its face under my mini-dress, aiming for my crotch, and I found that really distracting.
Last night started like this:
I looked perfect. I was wearing a bright-orange-tropical-print mini dress, huge black hoop earrings, fishnet stockings, gold cowboy boots, heavy eyeliner, and bright red lipstick. My freshly bleached hair was smoothed across my forehead. Even my pubic hair was perfect. I had bleached it and shaved it into a tiny, frizzy triangle. Bleaching it burned horribly, and shaving would inevitably lead to festering razor-burn--but the pain was all in the past and the future.
The reason that I looked so perfect was that I was on my way to perform in a show at Spin--and I would see Honey there. She had just moved to Madison, WI and I was both heartbroken and relieved. I was just starting to be more relieved than heartbroken. But when she sent me a message saying "Finally get to c u on saturday. Looking forward to it.", I was in a frenzy again. I assumed she was coming to town to help with the show and to gather the remains of her things. I was afraid to see her, because I knew it would be extremely thrilling, but ultimately shortlived and frustrating. And then the ratio of heartbreak-to-relief that I had just gotten under control would be thrown off again.
We saw eachother in the basement of Spin, which is where I first got to know her. It is cramped and filthy but I love it. We hugged eachother and delared our enthusiasm for seeing one another. The last time we had seen eachother was on a camping trip two weeks before. For some reason, we acted like we didn't really know eachother the whole time. But, that was then--this was now, and now we were acting like long-lost best friends. I think she told me I looked good--which fell a bit short of standing in stunned silence, wordless with awe until "Holy shit, you look so fucking hot that I suddenly realize I'm in love with you!" could be stammered. That was what I was hoping for.
I milled about and did the things one does when one is waiting to perform. I went upstairs to pretend to look for someone. I came back downstairs and watched girls painting spirit gum on there nipples and sticking fancy fake-nipples over them. I watched other girls squash their breasts and wrap ace bandage around them. I amswered questions like these: "How was your trip?", "What act are you doing tonight?" and "Is this legal?" I laughed loudly and told the same stories, but in different rooms. At some point I glued my own fancy fake-nipples on and wore them under my bright-orange-tropical-print mini-dress. I touched them alot to make sure they were not coming off.
I also watched Honey put duct-tape over her nipples. While she did that we had this conversation:
her: How are you? Have you been keeping busy?
me: I've been out of town alot. I'm feeling kind of melancholy, because I just spent alot of time with my sister, and now I'm back here and I miss her!
her: That's kind of how I felt when I left my sister back in Madison.
(me thinking: I assumed you just came back from Madison today. For the show. But I bet you didn't! I bet you've been here a while and didn't call me!)
me: How long have you been back?
her: A week. But I've spent most of the time job hunting! But I think I found one!
(me thinking: That's no fucking excuse for not calling me! You're not my fucking friend!)
me: So, are you going to be living in Chicago then?
her: Yeah, I guess. For now.
(me thinking: Fuck! I would be excited, except that you clearly want to have nothing to do with me, because you didn't call me to tell me you were back in town, and you just sent me a text message which I was excited about at the time, but now realize was just you covering your ass because you had been in town for a week and not called me!)
I believe that I appeared completely nuetral about her decision to not actually move to Madison. I believe that I casually moved on to another topic of conversation. (Something like: working sucks, doesn't it?!) I also believe that I appeared fairly nuetral about helping her fasten the back of her chain mail bra, even though I didn't feel nuetral about it at all.
Along with her chain mail bra, Honey wore leather chaps over tight men's underwear. She was packing. I had never seen her wear anything like this decided to make a big deal over how hot she looked in hopes that she would think I was being sort of fake. It seemed like the best way to handle the situation since tonight we were on our best-friends behavior. And best-friends always tell eachother that they look hot even though they aren't actually attracted to eachother.
But if you are the type of person that Honey is, you also drape your arms around, caress the bodies of, hold the hands of, and kiss the cheeks of your best-friends even though you aren't actually attracted to them. She did that to me all night. It gave me the wrong impression. It has been giving me the wrong impression for over a year.
She also sometimes gives me the wrong impression by making out with me.
I feel that she has the wrong impression of me. I'm not sure what that impression is exactly, but I know it is wrong, because if it were right, she would be in love with me. Sometimes I try to do strange things on the off-chance of stumbling upon the thing that will finally give her the right impression.
Last night I tried this: being a Naughty Librarian, on stage.
I wore conservative looking black high heels, a knee-length navy blue wool skirt, a blue polka-dot print blouse (tucked in), and horn rimmed glasses. Underneath all of this I wore navy blue lace panties and a matching bra. Underneath that I wore fancy fake-nipples made of black sequins. I carried a demure navy blue book.
But in the act, the navy blue book is a very, very dirty book. It is filled with the dirtiest things you can think of. I carried it on stage behind my back, and then I slowly brought it out. I shushed the audience and looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then I opened it and began to read. I began to read the dirtiest things you can imagine, and they made me slowly lick my fingers to turn pages, and loosen the neck-tie of my blouse, and then open my blouse and caress my breasts, and then take off my blouse entirely. I turned the page and the dirty words made me start rubbing my thighs and pulling up my skirt. Then I read something so dirty that it made me put the book in my mouth and hold it in my teeth while I pulled down my panties. Then I wanted to smell the book, and then I licked the open pages of the book and rubbed my face all over them as if they were not pages of a book at all, but someone's wide-open beaver.
Then I realized how naughty I was being, so I slammed the book shut and spanked my bare ass with it. For a very long time. Especially long because I accidentally started doing it on the wrong cue.
Once I had sufficiently punished myself for my naughtiness I opened the book again, but something else dirty made me clutch it to my breasts and slip my arms out of my bra. I flipped a few pages in front of my bare, bejewelled breasts, and then I turned away, still reading, and began to unzip the back of my skirt. I had nothing on under the skirt, and I began to slide it down with the book.
At this point I was facing Honey--she was by the back of the stage. And she had the look on her face that read: "Holy shit, I can't believe what she is doing!!!" Which made me feel triumphant. It was a much better response than I had gotten the last time I had taken the stage at Spin and hoped that seeing me as a Naughty Sheperdess would finally give her the right impression of me.
I gloriously completed the routine by stuffing the book between my legs, turning around, and then opening the book and my legs--as if the book was actually my wide-open beaver. Then I slammed my legs and the book shut, and walked off stage.
"I don't even know what to say about that! It was hot!" said Honey, as I slid past her. Her hands slid over some part of me, or maybe mine slid over some part over her. I felt like hot shit. Like the hottest shit in the club. Some other people seemed to think so too, which made me feel like even hotter shit. And think that maybe, just maybe, all I had to do was sit back and wait, and Honey would come right to me.
Two of my very favorite people, Maxx and Sam, were there to see the show. I had seen them the night before, and over shots of tequila I had made them a promise. This was it: That when I saw Honey I would go up to her and say "Honey, there is a conversation that we need to have. That we have needed to have for a long time. But since we clearly are never going to have it, I am going to have it for us." And
then I would act out a conversation, saying both parts, that would go something like this. "Honey, what is going on? You send me mixed messages all the time! You say you like me, but then you don't act like it, and sometimes you act like it but say you don't! Sometimes you make out with me. Sometimes you run away from me. What's going on?"
"Well, Meredith, I really do like you, and I'm really attracted to you, but I just don't want to get into anything serious right now, and I know that would happen if we dated!"
"Honey, that's not true at all! Admit--you're just not that into me! Admit it!"
"Okay, fine, Meredith, you're right! I'm not that into you! I just didn't want to tell you that because then you would stop humping my leg all the time, and I love the attention!"
"Well, Honey, finally you are being honest with me! And I know it will be a blow to your ego not to have me there stroking it all the time, but you'll get over it! Goodbye forever!!!"
And then I would kiss her, hard, and storm off.
I thought there was about a 50% chance I would do this. But things seemed to be going so well that it sort of slipped my mind. Until 3am when the bar was closing and it was time to go home, and I realized I hadn't seen Honey in a long time.
I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to take off my Naughty Librarian costume, either. But I did. I put my bright-orange-tropical-print mini-dress back on, freshened up my lipstick, and tracked Honey. Time was running out, and Sam and Maxx were waiting for me to get to be ready to leave.
I very nearly trapped her in the office, but she evaded me on the pretense of obligations upstairs. She said she would be right back. So I tracked her to the bathroom and stood in the narrow hallway in front of the door to the basement. If I could just buy a little time, she would have to pass me.
Sam and Maxx stood across from me and I declared my intention. I was going to do it--I was going to have that monologue-conversation with Honey! Just like I promised!
But when Honey came back from the bathroom, she sweetly said "Are you takin' off?" to which I said "Yeah, think so." And she gave me a hug. And then she gave me a goodbye-kiss on the lips. And then instead of doing the enactment I had planned, I grabbed the back of her neck and started ferociously kissing her. She kissed me back, and somehow got out the words "Did you miss me?" when my tongue wasn't in her mouth. It was perfect, but short, because a man who worked for Spin came up and said "Hey you guys can't stand there." We stopped. I looked both smugly and sheepishly at Maxx and Sam.
"I'll be right back!" said Honey, and she disappeared through the basement door.
I didn't think she was coming back. And I couldn't really buy any more time and not look utterly pathetic, so I followed Maxx and Sam out. Hoping to the very last moment that Honey would come back and stop me from leaving.
Then something terrible and wonderful happened. When we were already in the car, I got a message from Honey that said "Did you leave? Ran back up & you were gone. I'm crying as we speak!"
I'm not sure exactly what I said, but it was something giddy like "Oh my god, holy shit, go back, go back!" I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. It looked like overwhelming evidence that I hadn't forced her to make out with me after all! "What should I say you guys? What should I say?!" I asked Sam and Maxx. They would know.
We started to drive back to the club and discuss the issue. It was suggested that I respond with "And?", which I did. She responded with "And...I didn't think you'd leave before I came back." Me and Sam and Maxx discussed amongst our selves again and agreed on the response "I'm outside spin. Come home with me." However, I chickened out and secretly modified it to "I'm outside Spin. Come out." I sent that.
Then there was an agonizing moment of waiting for her response. We pulled over across the street and at the door, hoping to see her rush out, phone in hand. I was very excited. But every time the door opened, it wasn't her.
Then she wrote back "I would love to but I have to clean. I hate cleaning." Without asking for advice I hastily responded "I will wait...". Then I regretted it horribly, and I admitted that I had done it, and there was much discussion. And somehow it came out that I hadn't asked her to come home with me. "Because I know she would say no! There is just no way she would say yes!" I said. I moaned and knitted my brow.
There was no response from Honey. We waited. I alternated between wanting to wait and making bold statements like "She knows where I live. She has a car. If she wants to get in touch with me she knows how." This vascillation resulted in the frequent buckling and unbuckling of my seat belt.
There was still no response from Honey. We discussed amongst ourselves. Sam came up with "And if I wait...". I sent that. Honey didn't respond. She never responded.
And I may never know what really was going on inside Spin right then, but I will forever believe it was this: Honey, trying to clean, got really annoyed with my catty messages. She also was annoyed that even though I know that she will "make out with just about anyone", because she tells me that all the fucking time, I still insist on thinking it means something when we make out. So, she declared "What a bitch!" and tried to ignore my messages that were coming through. However, she couldn't quite resist the urge to read them just to see how far I would go in my delusion of importance, and she read them and then was more annoyed by them. And probably showed them to her friends and said "God, what is Meredith's problem! She won't stop sending me these stupid text messages!" And then everyone probably laughed and thought about what a stupid bitch I am.
Sam and Maxx were extremely supportive. They assured me that Honey was being completely stupid, and a bitch, and passing up a really great thing. And that clearly she didn't deserve me--I was much too good for her.
"So, I shouldn't contact her, should I?"
"No! No! The ball is totally in her court!"
I didn't listen. I instead I gave in to the temptation to dig myself into a deeper hole by trying to get myself out of the whole I was already in. I decided not to talk myself out of calling her. But somehow I managed to resist the urge long enough to unzip my bright-orange-tropical-tropical print mini-dress. Then I wandered onto the back porch where I actually get reception.
I egged myself on. "If I don't do this now, I never will! And then we will never get to the bottom of things! I know you aren't supposed to call people at 4 in the morning after you just saw them, but damn it, I'm going to go for the gusto!" And while I thought all that I wandered into the alley. Just to make sure I would actually get reception.
So, there I was. It was 4:30 am. I was standing in the alley behind my house wearing only high heels and an unzipped bright-orange-tropical-print mini-dress and huge black hoop earrings. My hair still looked perfect, because of my over-use of hairspray and gel, but my bright red lipstick was smeared in an arc under my mouth. I was talking to Honey's answering machine trying to say this: "I left because I thought you were running away from me, because that is what you always do. But really all I want is just to have an honest conversation with you, because I feel like I am never being very honest with you. So, hopefully since you are back in Chicago now, we can have a conversation. And I hope that you will call me. And I hope that you have a good night."
However, I don't think it sounded quite that concise, because after I got out the first sentence, a giant black dog came trotting down the alley and put its face under my mini-dress, aiming for my crotch, and I found that really distracting. |
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