“Fool myself into having a good time”
By Rajiv Jain
Fiction. Based on a True State of Mind.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
I look at myself in the mirror and feel so… bland. I need an escape tonight. I need to not think, to not feel the heaviness. I want to feel good with myself and let go, even if it’s just for a night.
It only takes seconds to get my friend on board with going out. They can’t believe I’m the one that wants to go out but I do, or at least I’m going to try. I straighten my hair, use my best make-up, and put on my hottest outfit. I look in the mirror and feel as good as I can feel with everything that’s going on. Tonight, I’m not thinking about my horrendous week, I’m thinking about fun.
I arrive at the club and feel uneasy. I’m not the type of girl that hangs out at a club, but like I said, tonight is about fun. I’m being fun. This is what’s considered fun, right? I spot my girls and the churning of my stomach passes. They hug me and compliment me on how hot I look. I’m also not the type of woman to go all out on my looks. I’m mostly in a high bun and leggings. I accept their compliments and we head inside.
The crowd overwhelms me and the temperature rises. I can feel my face getting hotter and redder as we walk deeper into the crowd. The music feels so loud I can feel it inside of me, as if the drummer was my heart.
I should’ve stayed home. I should’ve had my own little party at the house, and I would have been fine and comfortable. However, I know my friends are bored of that. They always want to go out, and for the first time in months, I’m going to be fun.
A cup of some type of alcohol makes its way into my hand. I can’t remember a day when I drank something other than wine. I like wine, it calms me, and I know my limit with it, after two glasses I’m good. I drink from the cup and it doesn’t taste so bad, it actually tastes sweet and not at all what I expected. My friends are looking at me tasting it; they know I’m not used to it. I smile at them to reassure them that I’m fine and having fun.
One of them suggests dancing. I haven’t danced in so long. The drink was strong because it makes me nod and let my friends drag me to the dance floor.
“See, this is fun,” she says to me, and I smile. I have the reassurance I needed, I’m fun, see?
My heart is still the drum player, but my body follows, continuing the beat. I’m following a beat. It feels so good to let go like this, to dance freely as if no one is looking. I can feel drops of sweat going down my back and forehead but I don’t care, I’m feeling so good and fun.
As my breathing gets faster and faster, I decide to take a break. My friends agree and we find a little booth to rest our feet. One of them leaves to get more drinks, and the rest just sit and giggle. They start talking about their men and how they feel unappreciated and I just sit there. I have no man, therefore I have nothing to talk about. Yet, for the first time in a long time, I don’t care. I’m smiling at them and actually giving them advice.
I can feel their stares; they know it’s weird of me to actually give advice rather than telling them to dump them and get a life. Then, the drinks arrive at the table and I gulp mine down. That one tasted different but it still made its way down my throat with a soft sting.
My friends continue talking but all I can think about is making myself feel fun again. I want to dance but the girls are still drinking their drinks. I get up and notify them that I’m getting another drink. I make my way towards the bar, not without being touched a couple of times, but I guess that’s part of being in a crowded bar.
I listen to someone order something on the rocks and order exactly what they did. Once I have it in my hand, I take a sip. This one stings more, it feels hot in my throat. I probably made a face but I don’t care. I pay and walk with the drink back to my friends. When I arrive, the drink is over.
I’m starting to feel the alcohol make my brain foggy but I shake it off. As if it would leave with every move I make. Maybe that’s what I need, to move. I should dance again. I suggest it to the girls and they comply. We get up and make our own little circle dancing with each other. It feels so liberating again and with the alcohol now, I feel looser. My body has a mind of its own now and it’s moving in ways I didn’t know it could.
We get tired again and find a spot to rest. One of the girls arrive with drinks; I decide to drink it slowly. I know the drinks have made their way to my brain because I’m hugging my friends a little too hard and giggling a little too much. One of the girls starts texting random boys and I thank myself that I have no boys to text. Maybe I should find a man tonight, to be extra fun. Better not. I gulp the rest of the drink. Fun fun fun, I remind myself. Tonight is about having fun, and so the night continues the same way: dancing, more drinks, gossiping, and more dancing.
Suddenly, it’s 3 am and I arrive in my apartment. How did I get here? I stumble my way in and hit myself with a table. I’m giggling. I did it. I went out. I socialized, I danced, I drank, I had fun. Fun. Fun. Fun. I’m in my room, stumbling into bed. I look at the bathroom. Should I shower? I giggle. Of course silly, I stink of booze and sweat. Yet, I fall back and my eyes close.
I wake up with a horrible headache and so so thirsty. I look at my surroundings. I didn’t fall asleep in my bed, I fell asleep on the rug under my bed. Is that puke? Disgusting. It reeks. I get up and feel my stomach churn. Uh oh, here comes the not-fun part. I run to the bathroom to pour out all the alcohol left in my body. It makes my head hurt more.
I finally get up from the bathroom and make my way inside the shower. I’m so thirsty I catch a gulp of the water that’s running down. I lay there for a while while I gather my strength. It seems to have left down the toilet with the rest of my insides.
Fun. Fun. Fun. It was not that fun. Fun is hard.