Have you ever just felt really out of place at some place at some point in your life? I wrote this down on my notepad as I downed some tacos at a bar one night, a few years ago. What I wrote was much longer — the rest of it made it to my book of essays Nostalgia and Deal Breakers.
These isolation times are reminding me of those earlier times for some reason. Can you relate? A lot of people are afraid to admit these sort of things. For the record, it’s healthy to let it out of your system!
Here’s the story
I took a deep breath upon getting out of the car. Straightening my skin-tight, short pink dress, swiftly yet slyly I made my way in. I was here before, the previous month perhaps? I’d never forget a good bar. We ate pricey tacos and drank beer from the bottle; a rather unusual choice, but all part of a pledge to try out new things.
Long tables outside, all taken by a taco-hungry mob, looked nothing like what I saw in the past. Where are the adults? And all that peacefulness from a month back? I came back here for that. Felt as though all eyes were on me, the new girl in town, so I scanned the room for the nearest bar to leave behind those wandering eyes.
“Empty bar stool, where art thou?” I pleaded, in need of making myself invisible for a minute. No rational reason to justify my weirdness. “Wish I had that view, like last time.” I was looking at the best seat in the house. Not on Taco Tuesday, my dear Marsh.
“Shared table it is” — why is this suddenly hard? The loner scrolling started in no time. Hoping no one would notice I was alone. “Why am I doing this and who gives a f*ck?”
Last time, I was here with a friend and it was more fun. A shady hallway led us to the cocktail room, a la speakeasy, if you must know. Danced the night away, met too many lads, but not one name stuck on my mind. But, mind you, what a fun night.
Today just feels different because it’s Valentine’s Day on a Taco Tuesday night with just me, myself and I.
