Saturday night and I was home alone again. With a heavy sigh, I tossed the book I'd been reading to one side and rolled off the couch I'd been lying on for the past three hours. I gave a mighty stretch then headed for the kitchen. Pulling a beer from the refrigerator, I popped the cap and chugged about half the bottle's contents in one go, before exhaling a long breath of satisfaction.
"Damn good," I muttered then gulped back the rest of the beer. After tossing the bottle into the trash can, I ambled back into the living room and threw myself back down on the couch.
I was bored and pissed that another lonely evening loomed ahead of me, one of the many I'd endured since my ex, Robert, had left. I wasn't going to give in to wondering what had gone wrong--again. I'd turned that particular subject over and over in my mind countless times, until even I was tired of it. And every time, I came up with the same answer--I had most probably just bored Robert to death.
It had all seemed so great at the start. We both had so much in common. We liked the same kind of music, enjoyed Italian food, hiking, tennis, movies--and the sex had been so damned great ... for me, anyway. In my mind's eye, I could see Robert's sleek, smooth body, lightly tanned, firmly muscled. He wasn't exactly a gym bunny, but he exercised there enough to keep that delectable physique tight and taut. He'd felt so good in my hands ... so warm and sensual. Now someone else was caressing that body, kissing those plump lips--
Jesus Christ! I was doing it again.
"Let it go!" I yelled, jumping to my feet, tears of frustration springing to my eyes. "Let him go. He's not coming back."
"I'm not coming back." Those were the last words Robert had said, just before stalking to the door of this very room and slamming it behind him. I could still hear the resounding crash of finality as the door had been banged into its frame with such force, the walls had shuddered, and I'd heard the angry voices of the neighbours yelling, "Cut it out!"
I'd stood in the centre of this room, stunned into disbelief that he had really left me. Left me for someone he'd met at the gym, someone who shared his interests. Someone who wasn't content just to stay home every night, but who knew how to enjoy life. Someone like me, before I met you, Robert, I'd thought.
Funny thing was that I had known it was going to happen. I don't know how or why, but I've always had this innate knowledge of when something life-changing was going to happen to me. Several times throughout my life, I've had premonitions of events that have later taken place. Like when my father died so suddenly...
"Shit," I muttered, wiping my eyes. "I've got to get outta here."
Maybe Rhonda who lived in the apartment above me would like to take in a movie. Rhonda had been so terrific to me when Robert left, spending hours just talking to me, telling me Robert was the loser, and it wouldn't be long before I'd realise that and start dating again. Even though I hadn't believed a word of it, I valued the encouragement and the friendship. But who was I kidding? It was Saturday night, and Rhonda would be out painting the town all shades of red.
Walking quickly into the bathroom, I turned on the hot shower spray. Maybe if I spruced up a little and went out for a drink, I might run into a friendly face--maybe even someone I knew. There had to be one or two friends left somewhere. That's the trouble with committed relationships, people you used to hang with suddenly disappeared--especially the single ones.
What happened to Ron? I wondered. We used to spend so much time together ... good times, too. I wondered if he still managed that Italian restaurant--I must have his number somewhere.
Drying myself, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I'd be twenty-five in three weeks and apart from the 'melancholy baby' aura, I guess I still looked okay. I'm just a little less than six feet. My hair is reddish blond, thick and wavy. My eyes, when they're not bloodshot from crying, are a clear, light blue, and my mouth is full and wide.
Robert used to call it truly kissable.
Pushing that thought from my mind, I tried smiling. It looked more like a grimace. Gotta perk up if you want someone to pass the time of day, or night, with you, I told my reflection. After applying a spicy deodorant and a splash of cologne, I pulled on a pair of my favourite blue jeans and a black cotton tee. Shoes or boots? Sneakers, I decided.
I spiked up my hair up a bit, picked up my keys and billfold then headed for the door, wishing I felt more into this than I really was.
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