Angela is a vivacious dancer.
I discovered this anew at her sister’s wedding’s after-party, when, under the influence of beverages, I joined her on the dance floor. We got to busting moves in full view of her family and in laws. I can’t comment on our dancing, but as a result of it, many of the young partygoers loosened up considerably and joined in the dancing. Then the party really began.
Consequently the dance floor became too crowded. Reluctantly, I left Angela to dance with a too-enthusiastic gyrator of his pelvis who had been hanging around her rear for a while. Leaving her to her fate, I walked away from there in search of space to be on my own.
I found myself at a balcony, and was passing time and reflecting drunkenly upon the cars passing in the street below. My thoughts roamed. Maybe I now underestimate the extent to which I was sober or drunk. Whatever the case, right there and then, my alter-ego came into existence. It inaugurated itself by insulting me and arguing pointedly - albeit in a calm, measured, factual tone.
Mr. Feelings. Do you think that by letting them go, that you’re doing them an act of charity? Well, hello, you’re neglecting MY NEEDS!
The hit-list is a trail of neglect. Angela is a year overdue. She serves it to you on a platter and all you do is blink at it.
I began to understand that my alter-ego didn’t like me.
GalPal back there should be a shoo-in. You’ve seen it in her eyes. And she’s drunk as a fish.
I hated my alter-ego immediately.
Angela and GalPal. Ménage-a-trois I bet they’re up for it.
I struggled to neglect those thoughts.
You can’t even remember when last you got some.
I struggled to remember. (!)
But you can remember all the women you let slip from your clammy clutches; each and every one.
I struggled to cast them out of my mind. Sensing this, my alter ego started to list them by name.
The Ex. The Sister of the Ex – that one’s a short bus ride away, right now. Jennifer is an ”Enemy with Benefits” if you push her a little; it’s not too late for that.
I struggled to ignore my alter-ego.
The neighbor! The Church Freak! The Tall Classmate! TWO soccer team ladies! How many swimmers?! The Upstart Model! The Liberal! The Library Buddy! The ‘No’ Camp supporter! The petite one you can’t figure out but are foolish and timid around! If you’d kept your heart out of it she would have tried to break something else!!! Look; the admirer of your art doesn’t really LIKE your stupid notebook sketches God-damn-it!
I wanted to run away. I considered starting by jumping off the balcony for a headstart.
The Best Friend. I’ll bet if you get a little alcohol in your veins she could become a one-night stand, Mr. Feelings. Best friend my ass. Hit and run. You’ll forget her name in the morning.
The suggestion incensed me. I addressed my alter ego directly for the first time. “That’s outrageous! You are mad! I’ve known that girl for ten years!” I even gestured.
You’re ten years overdue, then, aren’t you? Nothing special about that…Right now, though, there is Angela and there is GalPal. Live a little, Mr. Feelings.
Even as I spewed invectives at my alter-ego, I knew that it had retired back into the depths of darkness (alright, my subconscious) with the satisfaction of knowing it had poisoned my mind already and I would never find peace again. Turmoil stewed within me as I stood at the balcony.
I didn’t have much time afterwards to recover. Shortly, someone’s silky arms wrapped me from behind; then her face pressed against my cheek. It was snug, natural even - decidedly sensual. She stayed silent but her heady perfume gave her identity away. I’d spent most of the day with GalPal, so I knew it was her by that scent.
We stayed alone on the balcony and swayed gently to party music.
Say something sleazy, you idiot!