I heard your infectious laugh but laughed at something at my table even louder to drown you out. I had to do something. Convince my table that I was smiling for some other reason than your childish, body-shaking laugh. I saw you as soon as you walked in but tore myself from looking at you so you would not see. Your clothes stained my sight. You always were too hip for me. More hip than anyone else in the room. I always thought that maybe you, yourself had started the hipster movement and everyone only followed your lead. Well, you’re old enough for this to be plausible. I saw your signature all over this dim bar.

A new hot spot for you and all of your followers. I had come first with you. Then after you, I realized all of my friends frequent this place too. Here we all are. Southeast side, hipster haven. My friends outnumbered yours four to one and even one of yours is mine too now. I’ve often heard, in reference to friends that it is quality over quantity. But I imagined a war between our tables, in which I won and you surrendered because even your best could not stand up to four of mine. You tried to catch my eye between laughter and whisperings. I saw you follow my hand from my knee to his hand and on to his chest. You shuddered but then regressed. I fantasized that you were re-imagining our sad, parting scene. I think you concluded that it was your decision and to leave me be. It doesn’t make it easier, I know. I still think I should have fought harder for you. I think you were testing me anyway. I was just too angry to think that way.

You said you thought of being with someone else when you were with me. That was enough to turn off to you, even though I never really did. I always thought you were so intuitive. So in touch. Yet, you were falling back into something that had hurt you so tremendously in the past. Who was I to judge though. I’ve been you. I’ve longed for that second chance with him too. The one we talked about. My inner struggle in that bar that night surrounds the harsh truth that your presence makes me weak to your glance and I unable move at your touch. I still fake it all to keep in rhythm with your pulsating energy. This is why I have to pretend that I don’t see you there two feet away. I feel you, I don’t have to look at you. I pretend I don’t feel you the second you walk in. I go to these places with the hidden hope that I may run into you.

Each night I go out, I think of running in to you. I made the choice long ago to let go of the only other to make me feel this way. I swore never again, if I were lucky enough to feel such a thing again. Here you are breathtaking and stealing the spirit right out of my wednesday. My friends say to ignore you but when you touched my elbow, your pulsating energy filled every part of me and I looked directly into your eyes until I rescued them into your dimples. I saw you do the same. You wanted to know who he was. “Good luck with that,” you said. I saltily respond, “he calls me his best girl and no other girl interferes.” The guy then asks if he can get me a drink. I decline, I’ve had enough already.