Long week. Friday night. Stress release necessary. What to do? Hit the town with your bff. Get to your favorite dance spot before 10 - saves you $10 (during recession, every little bit helps). Get stamped, use the restroom, leave. How about a snack and refreshing glass of sangria at Radio Havana Club Social? All subversives welcome, Big Brother isn't watching. Small hole in the wall, pay attention to the preppies trying to belong, to the odd-looking fella checking you out, smiling at you while rubbing his girl's thigh. Drink. Drink the thirst quenching beverage of the Gods that will have your head spinning shortly. Pay. Exit. Stop by the other place - you know the one. It's the place you go to when you make it after 10 pm and don't feel like paying. Your exotic-looking friend with the booming laugh will let you in, he always does. See him tonight. Say hi. Be surprised. A one-woman man, that's news to you. Too bad. He had potential. You've switched roles. Good girl gone bad, bad boy gone good. Smirk. Wave and move on. The night is young and you want to maximize the use of your stamped wrist. Re-enter your spot. Go to the bar. Chocolate cake shot , yum. Dance. Try to feel the music. It's not there yet. Watch your friend have another drink. You both have plans tonight. Hers is to get trashed. Yours to kiss a hot guy. Nothing here, except for one bouncer. Don't go there. You like this place too much. Leave. There's another place that's always fun. On your walk there, tell your best friend "if his status ain't hood" in regards of the guy you will kiss. You speak in jest. But sometimes, you have to be careful what you wish for. Some days, the stars align in your favor and without knowing, your wish comes true, making you wish you had really asked for what you truly wanted. This new place is poppin'. Music is loud. You and your friend are feeling the music, the atmosphere. Cute thug alert. He's there with a couple of girls. You don't care. You're there to have fun. He approaches you both. For some reason, you lie and say its your birthday. Another chocolate cake shot, his treat. You dance, talk, smile. He buys you and your friend another drink - another chocolate cake shot, it is after all, your birthday. You decide to go back to the first place. He comes. More drinks. His drink of choice is Henessy. He's gansta - half Italian, half Boriqua, full New Yorker. You dance, talk, and smile. Dance, talk, smile. Dance. Talk. Smile. Kiss... The night is over. He promises to return to see you next week,he's leaving back to Brooklyn tomorrow. He promises to take care of you, "I gotchu", he says. You don't care if he does or doesn't. You got got you wanted. You kissed a thug.
No comments:
Post a Comment