My body is slowly recovering from a night of alcohol abuse. Though it was days ago, it seems stuck in my system. It’s prevented from making a complete exit, by remorse. Self-punishment is a difficult habit to break. I count my mistakes like an obsessed mathematician.
Marcus came out for drinks with Jennifer and me. While I should have taken his arrival as my cue to depart, I stayed after coming up short with an excuse to leave. My brain’s activity comes to a grinding halt at the most inopportune moments. I am naturally wired to self-sabotage, and bring about small failures.
At some point in the evening, we ended up at my place. Jennifer complained of hunger, and I made my way to the kitchen to prepare a meal for my guests. We all continued to drink. I didn’t give much thought to why my glass contained the same quantity of liquid, despite taking it to my lips often. Just as soon as I stepped away from it to check on the food, it would magically refill.
Once Jennifer’s appetite was satiated, she excused herself, leaving Marcus behind. He claimed that it was unsafe for him to drive. While I was not comfortable with the idea of the two of us alone, I didn’t want to send him to his death.
My plan was to bore him into sobriety. I started with a conversation about vampires, moved on to stories of Scotland’s crossroads, followed by dissecting classic literature, and ended with teaching him yoga. He told me that I am too thin, and that could make me a target for sexual predators, so he taught me self-defense. Then I did what I aimed to avoid. I kissed him with such intensity, you would think I could actually stand him. Remembering how much he aggravated me, I slapped him hard across the face. I demanded that he do the same to me, and call me a whore. He looked confused, but obeyed my command. I returned his violence, and pushed him away. With as much speed as my unsteady legs would allow, I ran into my room. He followed me, hoping to continue, but I did not acknowledge his presence. I wanted him and that moment to no longer exist.
Marcus gave up and left. He didn’t even thank me for the meal.