I would love to work as a Funeral Home Attendant, but I lack a drivers license. This is disappointing somehow.
The Vancouver Lawn Tennis & Badminton Club is looking for a receptionist. In their advert, they claim it’s a “Fast-paced environment”.
However, a gelati shoppe is asking for counter attendants and there are few things better than daily take-home gelati left-overs as a summer perk.
Tonight is korean movie night.
I went looking for you. People get lost in the darkness of a nightclub easier than they get lost on the street. Everything is badly lit to make the patrons look better, it’s just the way it is. I found you at one end, on the platform above the dancefloor, up four steps. Your back was turned from me, as usual, and I planned on sliding behind you and holding you to me in the darkness. Your face was lit by a cell phone screen, the most charming thing I’d seen all day. I was behind the row of you, walking up barefoot, feeling the scuffs in the floor made by a thousand slutty high-heels. Next to you was a friend of ours, he was laughing with a woman I wasn’t sure I knew. My form became a denial, an uncertainty. Our friend, he saw me and laughed, pulling me to his side. Who is that? I should not have asked. Everything was confirmed. I shrugged off his arm as politely as I knew and walked fast away. I just barely made it to the ladies room. I slammed open a stall door and collapsed to the floor unable to breathe, choking on illness. Somebody knocked on the wood panel behind me, asked if I was alright. I said I had too much drink. I lost everything down to dry heaves. My throat burned.
Outside I sat alone in the hallway. I was missing for over an hour. You never came to find me. You were content to say hello when I arrived then ignore me until it was time for you to leave. This is normal, however, in spite of everything I want to scream for. I couldn’t make the nausea go away. I can’t make you not neglect me. I needed to leave but it would have been rude. So many friends were there, dancing together, making a nice evening. When you came to leave me, the same as every other time I’ve ever seen you, I couldn’t look at you. I should have moved when you spotted me. Slipped away while you got caught in the fishnet crowd. I wanted to hit you. Instead I bowed my head and waited for you to come. I wanted a reason to forgive you, to forgive myself for loving you. I almost slapped you, when you tried to touch me as if I meant something, as if you weren’t lying through your teeth again. You lied to me, you lied to her. You’re happy making whores out of all of us. I almost slapped you, I almost smashed my glass into your beautiful face.