Phase 1
She was excited and I was
terrified. I’m social enough usually, well by social I mean I talk to people
and laugh at the appropriate moments. But this really wasn’t my thing. There
were going to be huge amounts of people there, plus dancing. I can dance well
enough, and that’s actually one of the defining features of me. People know me
for my ability to dance. Usually that would instantly make me gay but having a
girlfriend does tend to help defray these kinds of accusations. But anyway
dancing in front of other people isn’t my thing. I don’t want to put myself out
there like that.
I feel at home in formal
clothing, wearing it in normal situations helps to set me apart from people.
But I always added that small piece of street style. To roll up one of the
shirt sleeves, stuff like that. But the down side of that is when people get
dressed up for things like this ball, I look no different to normal. Except for
the fact I keep my shirt sleeves down. In fact the only time I ever get remarks
on my clothing is when I wear something that isn’t formal. People have actually
gasped when seeing me in board shorts before, which I wear all the time at my
house.
But me in formal clothing,
looking completely normal for me, I was waiting at my girlfriend’s house. I’d
been there for a long time, a few hours at least. But this would be the first
time that I would see her fully dressed up with make-up and all.
And there she was, dressed in a
pale green dress that perfectly matched her eyes at that point. I’m reliably
informed and can confirm that her eyes do change colour. For a moment she was
all I could see. People talk about how they say something so beautiful that it
takes their breath away, well I could breathe fine. But I couldn’t take my eyes
from her, like I was drinking all too readily in the sight of her. She had put
glitter around her eyes and it trailed toward her temples tapering to a point
somewhere in front of them. It made them stand out; it drew your attention,
because those eyes were full of light and happiness. She was happy because she
got a night of fun and laughter with her friends and me. What a pity she’d
picked me. I think looking back at it that I made her night better and worse.
Better because I was there, living in different places made it difficult to
spend time with each other and every second was a blessing. And worse because
we were doing something that I hated, and had made it plainly known. I should
have been more responsive, or at least pretend that I was interested.
But where was I. Ah yes how
beautiful she looked. I have never seen anything more beautiful. But when you
look at it objectively I’ve only lived for 17 years. Theoretically I still have
another 53 or more years to see more beautiful things. But so far… In a respect
it was like putting me in board shorts. You just don’t expect it. Except with
me and board shorts not much changes, I don’t mysteriously get more handsome
because I’m wearing board shorts. Just like I preferred to spend my time in
formal clothing she preferred to wear anything colourful, zany, a little bit
odd, it matched her personality. If you know me well I don’t think full formal
represents me. I’m just a little bit too silly for it. So when I saw the change
from that zany colourful and slightly odd clothes to the formal dress. It was a
bit shocking. But the silly little bashful smile reminded me that she was still
the girl I remembered.
As she walked towards me I
stepped forward and hugged her. “You look beautiful.” I whispered. Her smile
grew a little wider as she whispered back, “Thanks.” And there was my mother
making me feel more uncomfortable than what I already was. She wasn’t doing
anything bad she was just being her, but that still didn’t stop me from being
uncomfortable. But it was more out of apprehension rather than embarrassment.
Mums are like that I think. They rarely every embarrass us but they do tend to
look they’re going to at any moment. Photos because everybody loves photos of
their kids dressed up. But I just looked like I normally did.
I had no jacket, that’s the one
part of the formal attire I neither have nor think that I could pull off in
public domains. So I never bought one and never thought to rent one for this
event. A slight oversight on my part but then I would have complained at how
uncomfortable it was. I hadn’t expected to enjoy it and I think that either way
I would have somehow forced myself to find something to complain about. If you
tell yourself something enough it becomes a truth.
We were going to be going to the Ball
in a limo. And it was comfortable enough, as you expect a Limo to be. And it
had drinks and a very loud sound system, something that the state of my ears
attested to after the Limo ride. We got out halfway there to take a photo, as
if I hadn’t had enough photos taken of me that night. I should really have made
more out those moments. They were the easiest bit of the night.
When we arrived at the venue
there were a lot of people milling around outside the doors. I didn’t feel any
different, although I did start acting like a puppy and following her around.
She was familiar, these people weren’t. And I’m not exactly the person who
likes change the most. I objected vehemently to a holiday to Australia because
something my parents planned involved people I don’t know. I also hated the
idea of moving, because I had my house figured. I knew the perfect places to
sit in the sun. I knew the places that I loved to be and the places that you
should avoid. Plus the ball was in another city. It just seemed like the icing
on the cake. I didn’t know anybody, it was a social situation and I had no idea
where I was.
The ball was themed carnival. So
there were a lot of stripes and one of the Teachers was dressed as a clown.
Apparently this was her favourite teacher. Quite honestly I could see why. I
mean I’d never heard him speak or seen him in any other situation but somehow
you can just tell. I didn’t imagine her favourite teacher to be the kind who
had their hands clasped and was gravely greeting people, just no.
And we got searched as we came
in. I’ll be honest I wasn’t exactly expecting it. But I suppose in a bigger
place than I’m used to they have problems that I’m just not used to. That and I
was not and am still not familiar with these kinds of events. Maybe it’s normal.
Maybe it’s not. You’ll have to ask somebody who’s not me.
The photographers were just
setting up and people were handing their coats to the coat room and having
numbers written in vivid on them, no fancy tickets here. But the two rooms were
full of people already. I wondered how we were all going to fit judging on what
I’d seen outside. But I exaggerated and it turned out that we were fine. But
surprisingly it was easy to find a table. Well one side of one. I wasn’t
hungry; we’d already eaten at her house before we came. But there was food. Not
much compared to the people and I was sure that it would be gone pretty much
instantly. I was right.
We sat down for most of that
night. When I look back at it I feel bad that I ruined her night. She never asked
to dance but somehow I could tell she wanted to. I think she was happy enough,
being with me but I know that I could have made her happier. I could have an
effort to be happy and try and get into the spirit of things. But it wouldn’t
have been real.
But as much as I hated being
there I loved the fact that I was with her and I would have gone to many more
of those dam things just to be with her. I don’t think she knew that. We
kissed, and I lied about the photos. Kissing her was definitely the easiest
part of my night. It felt right at the time. Like something incredibly familiar
and comforting. I also held her hand for most of the night, further reinforcing
the puppy phenomenon that I was talking about before.
Looking back at it I regret some
of what I did. But it’s done. So as her mother took me to the hotel where my
parents were staying I was smiling. Not because I was out of that place. That
quite honestly didn’t occur to me. I was happy because I had got to spend the
night with her. And I fell asleep happy. Happy because I knew I’d left
something at her house and I knew that I’d have to go back for it.
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Now I should say that this is based on my life. And some people will recognize that, obviously. And slowly as my supposed short story series go's on it will become less about my experiences and more about fiction. Also it's a perspectives exercise. Maybe move from first person to his and her. Maybe names later. I don't like naming short story characters. I just get attached to them and try to make the story longer.
But anyway. There we have the promised writing.
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