The First Night

A cool breeze swept through Main Street and I was instantly glad I wore my leather jacket. Em and I shared a cigar and a beer as we ambled our way to the beach. No one really cared we were drinking in public, it was normal for this kind of weekend. Last year, the cops would just drive by, giving us a stern look and told us to be careful. The cigar I inhaled caught my breath and tasted sweet like wine. I wasn’t much of a smoker, actually, I was no where close to being a smoker. This weekend only happened once a year and the whole objective was to let loose and step out of my comfort zone.

The beach was empty and the tide was low, uninviting. We pass the cigar back and forth as our sandals flopped against the board walk, catching bits of cold sand between our toes. For a fleeting moment I caught glimpse of a tall, lanky guy with chocolate brown hair. I pulled my sunglasses over my head and glared, trying to make out his face. He was far off on the beach playing volley ball with a group of kids I didn’t recognize. His clothes threw me off and as Emily passed me the cigar she told me it wasn’t him.

That’s when I felt my heart pounding in my throat, but subsided the minute I realized how delusional I was being. Why on earth would he be here? I already assumed he had gone to Brampton with his friends from what I had seen on facebook.

            Facebook was my only gateway to have an idea as to what my Ex was up too. I had deleted him the night I found out about the cheating and the whole point was so that I wouldn’t know what he was up too. It just made things easier. Every now and again, when I’ve downtown, I’ve wanted to message his buddies girlfriend to see if he was headed downtown, so I could avoid him at all costs.

            Not this weekend, I was free from the anxiety, or at least I tried. The beer was helping and as we finished off the can, I pull out another one from my purse. The booze and the cigars toxic smoke filled my body, fleshing out any stress or thoughts that would upset me. It eased me into that mellow state as Emily took the cigar from me, inhaled the last drag and flicked it off into the sand.

            We made small talk about the boys we met back at the hotel, how they mentioned a cottage party and wanted us to go. Of course Emily emphasized that they only really invited me and that she felt left out that I was getting all the attention.

            “You gotta be more open,” I say, taking one last look at the lake and beach before turning to head back to the hotel.

            “They weren’t even talking to me, they only talked to you,” Emily says a little more harshly then she probably intended.

            “Well, if you stand there with your arms crossed, looking like a bitch, hell I wouldn’t talk to you either.”

            Silence evades us, but not the awkward kind, but a knowing silence. I know what I said to Emily was a little rude, but sometimes certain friends need the tough love approach. It was like she was trying to ruin her own weekend, bitching about everything little thing, which made no sense. Who in their right mind would go out their way to put themselves in a rotten mood? To hell if I was going to let this effect me.

When night sets in we prowl the streets. Now we were loaded with alcohol, inching for fun. Emily’s eyes are half open and I’m barely making a straight line, but we’re giggling and being loud, singing our favorite summer song that’s been in our heads for days.

            Everyone’s running around either chasing girls or running back to their cottages to get more booze. The night club on the strip is loud and the cover cost is overpriced. It’s like the nightlight engulfed the cottage town, parties at every place, people decorating the streets with colored streamers or blasting fireworks. We danced, not in a club, but on the street, along the curbs and in front of the closed stores. Everyone did, just to let loose and enjoy the moment.

            I had my hands in my pants pocket, head swimming yet seeing straight when I see a boy cross our path. Dark hair, faded on the sides and well kept but a little messy on top. He was familiar, I knew him from somewhere.

            “You’re the nut and tuna guy!” I exclaim at him, more excite now.

            His face lights up and his age shows, he must be a lot young then myself.

            “You remember me?” His voice is higher, more animated.

            “Yeah! How could I not?”

            He seems pleased with himself and strikes up a conversation, introducing himself as Dante Ramos. Handing me his phone, its open to the ‘new contacts’ page. So I enter my name as Jessie Legend, as a joke, but he laughs and saves it.

           

            The mornings a blur, with Emily bitching about being hung over and for me, well, drinking more cures any hangover. We laze around and I grab the last beer, morning beer, to start my day. Our cooler’s empty and my phone has five missed calls.

            Apparently mister Lukas is in a hotel room, in a place he doesn’t remember being, with some naked girl next to him. The hell? I send a message to him and get no reply, so instead I switch on the tunes and watch old shows from my childhood. Emily sleeps as I try and nurse my own hang over. How did the night end?

            I do remember kissing a dark skinned boy, since you know, I’ve never kissed one before. Pretty sure that was my pick up line. All I really remember was Emily’s face after I said, “I’ve never kissed a black guy before. Do you want to make out?”

            Emily, face palmed, but the boy’s friends all guffawed, surprised by their friend’s luck. What was I thinking? He wasn’t even good at kissing, and yet there I had been, running around, making out with whoever I pleased. Did I make out with Dante? That was his name, right?

            Is this what girl’s in this lifestyle really do on a regular weekend? Sure, I was a little excited to be experiencing this for this weekend only, but what if I end up really enjoying it? I find myself within this, Fun Culture. Where drunken nights making out with randoms, whom you’ll never call or text back, is considered normal. Or having more than one sexual partner at a time is standard issue and cheating on your boyfriend/girlfriend is almost required to enjoy the full length of this Fun Culture.  

            My biggest question was, could I really do it? Last time I was single, I made out with some guy at a club and the next day was sick to my stomach with regret, embarrassment even. Yet, here I was now, made out with a random guy at a club a weekend or so ago, made out with another guy last night, I felt nothing. I could feel it, this summer was going to take it home, and this weekend was only the beginning.
-Jessie