My Freaky Friday

Yes, I fucked up. No, I didn’t mean to. But man, I had a blast.

Let’s state the obvious first: I was drunk. Not that it is an excuse, don’t get me wrong. Anyways, it’s the middle of February, and here in the southern hemisphere that means summer. Yesterday it was Friday night and Josema was smoking on my window, as we were watching “300” on the TV and discussing the overbearing masculinity of Leonidas. I was wearing my red high heels, and he said I had a kind of snow-white-look with my blue blouse and my white shorts. My red lipstick shone bright on my lips; I was in for the kill that night, and I knew exactly who my victim was going to be.

Josema had introduced me to the very popular Diego exactly one week before. He had become his new best friend in four months, four months that had been filling Josema’s mouth with ever more outrageous stories of their adventures (if I may) together. After lots of anticipation and half a bottle of rum, we came in and Diego’s eyes locked firmly with mine.

His house is ridiculously huge yet it wasn’t hard to notice him right away: baby blue eyes framed by picture perfect eyelashes, topped by thick dark eyebrows that I could only imitate with the help of industrial amounts of eyebrow pencil. The bar fight lump on his nose lends him a badass look that somehow gives his whole face a masculine scent that overpowers the femininity of his pinky-red lips. Diego is freaking handsome. And if I wasn’t completely sure that Josema is straight, I would have suspected that his good looks had a lot to do with my friend’s bromance.

- So here you are.  –he said, with a piercingly deep voice that goes along with his tongue piercing.

-The famous Diego.

- We finally meet –he replied, shaking hands with Josema.

- I told you I was going to bring her no matter what.

- It took us a long time, didn’t it? –he asked, stretching his arm to pick a bottle of beer nearby.

- Good things are hard to come by. –I smiled.

It wasn’t long before we were mixing small talk with ever less subtle innuendos about hooking up. Josema’s was smiling and eavesdropping around, convinced that for the first time his matchmaker’s skills had hit the nail with me. And he was right.

It took us almost two beers and a half to get to his room and turn off the lights. That, added to the half a bottle of rum I had so needlessly poured in while drinking with Josema, accounted to a probably obscene amount of alcohol going through my bloodstream. Not that I cared.

I didn’t bother pretending I’m a good girl. Yes, I had met him a couple hours before, yes, I had been suspecting this cute boy was up to no good a long time ago, but one thing is to worry about one’s friend’s acquaintances and quite another not to surrender to them when in person. My concerns went unequivocally out the window; for the first time in months, I was having fun. He was in control, and I wasn’t going to be the one to complain, but it didn’t go much further from there that night.

We went out of his room, me (pointlessly) trying to act cool around him. Josema greeted us with a smile in the eyes, gave each one a beer and kept on talking about those very significant nonsenses that make life worth living.

There was no talk about what had happened or about me sitting on his lap; there wasn’t even a comment on us kissing good night (though it should have been good-morning). As soon as I arrived home I accepted his friend request on Facebook and poked him back. We agreed on meeting the next day, despite me having an early shift the day after that. I had been swept off my feet and I had absolutely no problem with that.

After waking up again it was a craze of Facebook inbox messages and pokes. We settled the time at 7:00 pm and I took a nice hour to shower, put make-up and calm down.

It was going to be my first date in ages, and I had no idea how to behave after the hook-up of the night before. I was just done with the eyeliner when Diego rang on my doorbell. My mom looked out the window and saw his BMW Z4 coupé.

- Is that your friend’s car? –she asked, in awe.

- I guess so.

- He’s really rich.

- I know.

- How did you meet him?

- He’s Josema’s new friend.

I was wearing my denim shorts, a white t-shirt and vertiginous white heels. Make-up, kept simple: a little –tiny –bit of black eyeliner on the upper lid and length-increasing mascara. No lip gloss or eye shadow; and I don’t even own concealer or foundation.

- Hello gorgeous. –He greeted me.

- Hello, car.

- Like it?

- Love it.

His laugh eased my very anxious self.

- Shall we, then? –he asked.

- Where to?

- I already told you it’s a surprise.

It wasn’t a long drive, but it was a really nice one. We went to a restaurant on the very ocean shore, down the cliffs where my house is. I had been there before with my German friends, for drinks, but it was completely different than being there for a date.

- This is my favorite place to take a girl. –He said, when we came in.

- How many girls have you brought?

- Counting you? –he asked. His eyes pierced mine. –One.

- Liar.

It was inevitable to like him. Really. But certain things didn’t go unnoticed. Such as scars from cuts on his left forearm. One of them recent; two weeks, no more.

- You noticed them? –he said. I looked to his eyes, he looked to his arm.

- Self-inflicted.

- It has gotten worse.

- Really?

- Josema told me you’re pretty good at psych. Could you help me?

- I’m just a student.

- Didn’t ask that.

How could I say no?

- Yeah. I could.

I lowered my gaze. He took a deep breath in.

- Wanna know something about me?

- Yeah, sure.

- You know, I’m only telling you this because I really like you.

- We’ve known each other less than twenty-four hours.

- Is that a defense mechanism against guys that have screwed you in the past?

He was way too honest for a first date.

- You’re making me nervous. –I said.

- You too.

He drank a large sip from his cold water glass.

- I’m a drug dealer. You can leave if you want.

Bomb dropped. Initiate withdrawal.

- Why do you tell me this?

I took a deep breath, confusing silence took place for a few seconds.

- I’m good with people. I haven’t got a brilliant mind, in fact I’ve god ADD, but I’ve got good people skills. Know who to trust, when to. You’re trustworthy. And I needed to get it out of my chest. –He smiled. –Sometimes you just have to let go. It’s a leap of faith.

I drank a sip of my Pisco Punch, and it took me some time to smile.

He was a perfect gentleman that night. We ate, we talked, we joked around and we came back home. I took him in, he met my mom, swept her off her feet with his charm. We only gave each other a good night kiss.

I had been a long time since I had felt like that. Like, being unable to shut my mind from thinking about someone. I had an early shift at the psychiatry hospital I’m working at the moment, but I had no desire to sleep at all. I couldn’t forget his face, his arm, his voice. He leads such a different life from mine, he’s a self-acknowledged bad boy. And boy, do I fancy him. Yes, I still do. Regardless of what happened yesterday, I mean.

Anyway, the shift on Sunday was alright, but we didn’t meet at all. On Monday it was Valentine’s day, and since I live in to one of the busiest (and prettiest, let’s not forget that) parts of the city, the streets were packed with couples holding hands. I opened my Facebook and found a message from him.

Diego February 14 at 4:43

Are there any kinky costumes for doctors? I’ve been searching through the web and all I see is nurses.

Me February 14 at 4:49

Nurses need kinky costumes to be interesting. Doctors don’t.

Diego February 14 at 5:01

True. Wanna study some anatomy tonight? It’s the tradition.

Me February 14 at 5:04

The streets around my house are packed with couples, so I wouldn’t recommend you to bring your fancy car.

Diego February 14 at 5:07

Open the door. I came by bike.

I looked through my window and there he was. Perfect, wearing a blue t-shirt and white plaid shorts.

My mom had gone out, so I was home alone. Two minutes went by before we were desperately kissing in the living room, ripping each other’s clothes off. My mom came home just five minutes after we had brought ourselves to the kitchen to have a snack.

- He came by bike? –she asked, once he had left. We were sharing the same glass of water, and I was feeling quite guilty for it.

- Yes. Less traffic.

- Probably it wasn’t his car, it was his dad’s.

- Or his mom’s –I lied. I knew it was his. I knew why it is his, in fact.

Diego had left at about 10:30, and we had shared a kiss on my front door.

- Are you together now? –my mom asked.

- No.

I knew she had seen us kissing.

- Are you going to?

- I guess so.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday went through dates and Facebook messages. All of which then led to yesterday’s night. Exactly one week after we had met.

Josema was smoking on my window, watching 300, laughing out loud. I was abusing of my little snuff tin, and looking at my red-lips reflection on the mirror.

- I wanna be Leonidas. –He said.

- THIS IS WHERE WE FIGHT! THIS IS WHERE THEY DIE! –I started yelling, overpowered by Leonidas masculinity.

- THIS IS SPARTA! –he yelled, almost falling off of the window.

I fell to my bed and spilled my drink over the laptop. It instantly shut down. First fuck-up of the night. Didn’t care much, though. I was way too drunk. And we had to meet Diego half an hour after that.

When we arrived I was obviously wasted and he was talking to a blonde, curly-hair pale girl. They were on the slippery verge between small talk and flirt. I supported myself on Josema, which meant holding him from the back and laying my arms over his shoulders.

- Hi. –I said to Diego, looking at him straight in the eye.

- Hello. –He said, visibly surprised. He got up and tried to give me a kiss, which I gracefully dodged.

- Hello man, sorry, we were… –Josema started saying

- Come here. –Diego said, pulling me aside.

- You’re really drunk. –He said.

- I know.

- Why did you come so late?

- I was watching 300 with Josema.

- Up until 12 at night?

- We also sang Glee songs? –that part was also actually true, and my mom had told us to shut it because we were awfully out of tune. But it only made him look at me in clear and honest anger.

- I’ll get you a cup of coffee.

- What’s so wrong with being drunk? You and Josema get drunk all the time.

- It’s different.

- Really? Why? ‘Cause he’s a man?

- You’re my girlfriend.

- No I’m not. We haven’t talked about it. Answer the question. Is it different because he’s a man?

- Yes! Now let’s go.

- No! Out of all people I thought you’d be the last one with double standards.

-You’re drunk, you’re not thinking right…

- Look who’s talking.

- What do you mean?

I released myself from him and stomped my way back to Josema.

- What’s wrong?

- Your friend here is a hypocrite, that’s what’s wrong. –I said, not being too quiet.

Josema was talking to a girl and a guy. The girl was his usual type: lots of make-up and a do-me attitude; the boy was my usual type: tall, thin, pale, not the greatest sense of fashion, laid-back attitude. He only missed the glasses and the geek status, but he was alright for the purpose I had in mind.

I knew Diego was looking at me, so I started flirting lightly with Jack (tall-thin-pale guy). Josema was focused on the girl, so he wasn’t paying much attention. I put my elbow on the table, (trying to look) interested on what he had so say. It didn’t take Diego one minute to come along.

- Seriously? –He said.

- What do you think you’re doing? –I replied.

- Is there a problem? –Jack asked.

- Not at all. –I replied. –Jack, wanna go outside? It’s getting hot in here.

Diego stormed out as I went outside with Jack. We sat on one of the benches on the garden.

- I need to talk to you. –I heard. It was Josema.

- Oh, you too?

I stood up and walked towards him.

- What the fuck are you doing? –he whispered, as soon as I got next to him.

- What you do every Friday night.

- What about Diego?

- What about the double-standard guy?

- We’re leaving. –He said.

- Too many people, dear. I’m leaving. You can stay as long as you want.

I turned around to see Diego talking to Jack.

- We’re leaving. –I said.

- Good. –Diego replied.

- Wasn’t talking to you. –I looked Jack straight in the eyes. –Are you in? –I said, turning to Jack.

- Er…

- I’ll be outside.

I stomped my way out (for the second time) and kept on walking when I left the house. Josema was calling me on the cell phone, so it turned it off. I kept on walking. Just when I was about to go back I heard Jack’s steps.

- I’m in. –he said.

We took a taxi to my house, and we kissed on the back seat. When we arrived to my house my mom asked if it was Josema the one with me. I lied and told her he was, and then I started laughing. It all had just hit me.

I fucked up, I know. Jack left my house five minutes after and when I came up my mom asked why had Josema left.

- He wanted to sleep on his bed. –I answered.

When I came back to my room I saw the bottle of absynth my German friends had brought me. It was empty, next to my laptop, which was fried. I tried to turn it on a couple times, but it didn’t work. No internet, no Facebook, no Diego, nothing. Yet I was on a very contradictory good mood. And very, very drunk.