This Night Is Wild, So Calm & Dull

Song o' the Week: Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional
Note - an obvious work of fiction.


“Well, there’s the van; over there, waiting for me. I should just keep on driving.” I thought to myself as I pulled into the parking lot that night. “I should just keep going. I should go home.” I didn’t go home, the smartie-pants that I was. I pulled into my parking space. I looked up and I saw his face. A face I have to squint hard to even remember these days.

It was his idea to meet up and chit chat. I was out doing some peaceful solo shopping and he didn’t feel like hanging out with his girlfriend’s family. He wanted to skip out on a family gathering since I was in the area. The next day he was leaving on a week long trip. Really, he should have been home where he belonged. I didn’t know it yet, but he was not the kind of guy who ever just stayed where he belonged. However, by stopping there I wasn’t where I belonged either, so who was I to throw stones?

So we decided to swing by the park near his home. I’d like to claim he twisted my arm, but hey, sometimes we all do stupid shit, right? From the moment I got there I was knee deep in regret, but at the same time not wanting to leave like I should have. This may be just what mental illness feels like.

We set out for a walk. It was briskly cold outside, October. There I was walking with a boy wearing torn jeans and a beanie. The sun was starting to move lower in a sky that was starting to turn an orangey tone. This fella was three years my junior. We walked past the pond and the ducks were squawking. We moved past a few joggers and couples with their happy dogs. I hardly knew him. His voice kept catching me by surprise every so often because it was deeper than I expected. It’s not like I hadn’t talked to him before, but for some reason it kept getting me off kilter that day. It made the little hairs stand up on my arms.

Because I am clearly brilliant I was wearing flip-flops that day and my feet were cold. “Thank goodness my toes have cute polish” I thought to myself as I wiggled and admired them as the leaves crumbled beneath my feet. Such a deep thought, eh? We stopped and sat on top of a picnic table. I leaned back reading the messages people had carved into the metal. The conversation was good. I purposely tried to avoid looking at his face. We really hit it off. I was probably being straight up manipulated, but I wasn’t completely naïve and just enjoying his company. We talked about music, and life, and relationships, tattoos, and food. And the time ticked away.

Eventually it was time to head back. Nothing inappropriate had gone down aside from just being friends oddly feeling like it was inappropriate. Why did I ever give him my phone number in the first place? What was I thinking? I started to get really nervous. Regretful.

I started rambling as we walked back quickly. I have a habit of talking too much when I get out of sorts. And he then got a little bit more quiet. I became even more nervous (WHY DID HE STOP TALKING?!) and jabbered more. Oh god, where is the freaking car? Why did we walk so far away? This.Is.So.Lame. Why am I here? I don’t even like this dude like that. Why are we alone? I totally should have just stopped at McDonald's instead.

I started to feel like I was talking to myself, but it was better than awkward silence. We were came upon a bridge that lead to the parking lot. Finally. I was walking about two to three good steps ahead of him. Just about 50-yards from my freedom to escape this mistake of an evening. Sweet Salvation Ahoy! I don’t remember the words I was saying, but suddenly... mid-sentence, he was kissing me on that bridge.

Instantly an imaginary camera is spinning around us. Every breath inside of me was being crushed by the hurricane that was him. It was an eternity. I shut up. It was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me all at once.


I should have just gone home that day.