There are lots of things to like about a good night out when you happen to wake up the following afternoon dishevelled and nauseous, ready for another go, and aching to jump back into the fray of that missed opportunity. I played with some woman's heart. In the end, she played mine. She always wins. No matter who this "she" happens to be at any given moment. If you ask me whether or not I do regret these, well, to be honest, sometimes, yes.
I never get things right the first time. Repetition is something that is etched into my core that whenever I fail to get the chance to do something all over again, I lose all momentum. That was what happened to Mioseon, and everything else good that happened before or after that. My profession, if you even call it that, has the same conundrum, and now it's buried amongst the long-forgottens. Before Friday night, Angelo asked me to tell Eva to come join his party. She immediately responded, and it was a foolish thing for me to take credit for her participation on the occasion when she would have went either way because Angelo had contacted her through mobile, which he claimed he lost just days prior. I was once again used to fulfil someone else's expectation. I wanted her to be there. She happens to be an eye candy, and it would have been more or less the same faces again and again without her. Sometimes it helps when the new people you meet are those you want more than those you've already been.
When Angelo told me that she'd be coming with a wheel, I told him in return: "You can't force three wheels on a bicycle." He laughed and called it a good one.
I love to think I'm quite witty, but most of the time it's a hard press. When I say hard press, I mean, I need to press my mind hard in order for my wit to do what it was meant to do. These things came easier when I was younger. The drama in my life took a toll at my wit and comic value.
Erica was quite demanding at the beginning, I felt. But that's just how our friendship basically works now. I realise sometimes you need to be assholic to another in order to establish some sort of rapport. This method doesn't apply to every single person, of course. One needs the right amount of tactfulness in order to gauge another person's response, and experimentation is the only possible way to learn. One will fuck over themselves over and over again trying to master the art, and one will either live the loneliest life or the happiest, depending on the circumstances.
So I arrived earlier as usual, wanting to jumpstart a slow week of solitude. It was there that Bruna said hello, and Angelo came out prepping for the long night. So did his roommate of a name that completely tartles me. A Dutch man of Egyptian origin with a more Germanic spirit. Sometimes it was hard to tell if we got along or not.
It took quite some time before people started to arrive. Erica was terribly late as usual. I wanted to be pissed, not pissed off. You get used to it. Eventually Nafi came, then Polska, then Iceland, some others, et al., and then Eva and his companion. The only one missing was Italy, and it saddens me to think that I was the only person concerned. He was as vital to the group as much as the others, but apparently I was alone in that sentiment. Nevertheless I would not let my frustrations stand in the way of a good piss. Yet it somehow did. It always does. Always. Angelo put on his red district goth getup, signalling that he was ready. I was tipsy even before the night started, but couldn't be bothered.
Soon the night darkened and filled with terror. My face was Valar more ghoulish, moments after Erica applied her stuff to my face. It wasn't long then. No more.