*I’m penning a spot of literature and am finally, after five years, coming to the close of the first draft. Please take a gander at the below snippet, from the middle of a chapter, and honestly let me know — would you want to know more? Do you want to know what happened before this snippet? Would you read stories like this? Thank you
…The next morning, we awakened, groggily, at the same time and layed in bed for about twenty silent minutes. Stretching, yawning, farting. Yeah right lol, these girls shat diamonds so you know there was no farting! I tried to broach the topic again because I was really ashamed about it; I was beginning to think it was simply me. Stacey, again, went with “I need coffee before we have any real discussions. Like, how can you even talk right now? Let’s get room service, I’m starving.” I wouldn’t ask again. So we went about another gluttonously luxurious day, where I was confused about if I should be putting in some finances toward our small Vegas excursion, getting confrontational over the previous night, or straight up buying a flight. By the evening, I decided I wouldn’t join them for another carousel and they gave me light obligatory backtalk – but I surmised that all parties were a bit relieved I wouldn’t have to be dealt with, again. Eventually, Stacey said, “honestly, it’s probably because you weren’t smiling.” Oh.
We drove back to LA the next day, I flew home the day after, and we haven’t spoken since. Shocking. The thing is, I have a two part theory as to why I was asked to leave that night.
- I wasn’t overtly introduced to the table owner and this is some sort of club-table-etiquette I was unaware of
- The animated conversation with Sera caused the blondes to feel a misinterpreted energy, whereby they told the table guy that I was that black girl. Cool cool cool.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t taken a cursory look around the club-table-population to note that I was the only person of color. Sera is ethnically hispanic, but looks white, so her hand gestures were perceived differently than mine (I would argue). It was one of the first times I sat down with myself to ponder if, somehow, my color was taken into consideration and created a seemingly negative result. I hadn’t had to face that ever before; maybe I did, but it was so disguised that I never even saw it. Who knows, really. But it was a poignant realization for me, in awareness of how I’m regarded even if I’m not being heard, just seen. And of course, there’s the whole friends-don’t-let-friends-leave-alone thing.
Sex and the City taught me, if you arrive with four, you leave with four. Girl code dictates, you don’t leave your friends when you’re out on the town. Especially in new and unusual places that might be overstimulating and thus dip into that inebriated territory. Unless you have an explicit word or signal indicating that said friend does want to go home with that girl or guy, that she does want to stay a little longer even if it’s without you, or that she will get her own uber home – under no other circumstances do you let your friends leave. Shit, or so I thought.