Bad at Love
Detroit. Summer 2015. I was young, dumb, and full of raging hormones that made me think I was in love. I'd met this cute guy while I was home from college at a dive bar down town. He thought I was cute, so he slid me his number, but in an unconventional way. He wrote it on the wrapper of my straw before my bartender served me. I will admit, I was a bit put off by his demeanor and the company he kept, but something about him drew me in. I called him that night and we ended up arguing about how he flirts. A long pause stalled the conversation. He then asked me to come by tomorrow and I said sure. That was the start of our whirlwind romance that lasted all of two months.
"Another shot? Really?"
"Get off my back, it's summer. I can do what I want."
I surveyed the dilapidated house he called home, noting the holes in the walls, the broken-down furniture, the dump that was supposed to be the kitchen, and the dozens of bugs buzzing about. "It seems like you always do what you want." I heard a loud crash and dogs barking before his friend tore down the stairs on a dirt bike. Soon they were out the door with two giant dogs trailing behind them.
"You should be more like Kaminari and Kirishima! Those two know how to live!"
"I don't want to do anything like Kaminari and Kirishima. They're not the best role models."
He scoffed. "You're such a buzz-kill."
I scowled at my drunken boyfriend, he simply smiled up at me. He still had that lop-sided smile I had fallen for, the same smile that had made me back down during many fights. Not this time, the rose-colored glasses were off and now everything in sight was a red flag. I turned on my heel, collecting my things before heading towards my car.
"Hey! Where are you going?!"
"I'm done, Bakugou! Done! You always taste like Jack Daniels when we kiss, and I hate your friends! I can't stand that house or your reckless ways. I'm going home." I got into my car and started it up, taking one last look at him before driving off. My friends told me that he's calling me a bitch again since I left. His loss.
Boulder, Colorado. I was living with some family while I was going to college and one night they had a few friends over. I wasn't feeling very social, so I decided to stay in the guest room and listen to music. Later in the evening, my door opened, and a familiar face appeared in the doorway. My jaw went slack, as did his. I couldn't believe it was him. We went to school together back in the day and I always had a crush on him. He was so sweet and kind that it was hard not to like him.
We sat on my bed for hours, talking and catching up. My aunt came upstairs to tell him that it was getting late, so as he was leaving, he asked me to get coffee the next day. That was the start of a long and admittedly satisfying relationship. We were near the end of our Junior year and I was telling him about how I had bigger dreams than what my degree would get me.
"I've heard you sing, you have an amazing voice and your songs are amazing."
I couldn't help but blush. "Thanks…ya know, I've been nervous when it comes to telling you this." I took his hands in mine. "After I get my degree…I want to pursue music full time…"
"I support you." He said happily.
"I'm not done." My gaze drifted towards our hands. "That means that I may not have time for a relationship." I risked a glance at him and upon doing so, I saw he was smiling. "You're happy?"
He chuckled. "I understand. More than anyone, I understand. I had my own dreams and felt I needed to pursue them. That's why I'm here, in college."
"I promise, the music will be worth the wait." I smiled sadly at him.
"I know it will be. You're amazing…I do have one request."
"Yea?"
"Come find me when you've made it big. I'd love to pick up where we leave off." He shot me a smile before placing money on the table. He rose to his feet, but before heading out into the world to chase his own dreams, he placed a kiss on my cheek.
Oakland, California. Jet lag was not my friend by any stretch of the imagination. At least I had time to relax before meeting with my agent. The word still felt so foreign to me, despite having conversed with him multiple times. Anyway, I'd arrived at LAX and began looking for a taxi that could drive me to my hotel. I waved down a dark blue car and I was about to open the rear passenger door, a hand flashed out to do the same thing.
"Oh, sorry. I thought he stopped for me."
"Oh, it's not a problem."
"Where are you headed? Maybe we can share it and split the bill."
"I'm heading to a hotel near the Walk of Fame." I was warry, and didn't want to give this girl any info about me.
"Oh really?! I'm heading there to meet up with some friends. One of them rented out a room for a party."
"That sounds fun. Since we're headed to the same place we can share."
"Awesome! A rockin' party and sharing a cab with a bangin' beauty."
She winked at me before asking the driver to pop the trunk for us. We loaded our stuff into the trunk and before I know it we were zooming down the freeway. She chatted me up during the drive, telling me about how she'd flown in all the way from the East coast. She was from a small town like me and was dying to get out ever since she was in 8th grade. She talked a lot but there was this weirdly calming aura around her that made me feel so at ease.
I told her I was here to meet my agent and discuss my music career as well as things that related to that. She expressed interest in hearing my music, asked if I'd written anything recently, asked what genres inspired me the most, just things that made my heart flutter. She had a genuine curiosity when it came to my passion and that struck me as weird. I asked her if she ever planned on becoming involved in the music industry, she said she didn't have the talent to break into the industry. She went on to say that she'd thought of becoming a producer or something related to the industry but her parents' sort of squashed her dreams when she expressed them. My face fell a bit, so I offered to help her out a bit later tonight. She agreed, saying it was a date.
I couldn't help but smiled as I got settled in my hotel room. She was really cute, no, cute wasn't the word. She was gorgeous; her smile wasn't pristine, she was a bit brash, tattoos littered her arms and were a hodgepodge of things that she probably went out and got the moment she thought about them, she was a mess. She was a torrent of miscellaneous knick-knacks and trinkets that held only sentimental value, and I was intrigued.
She sat across from me, belting her heart out. She poured every ounce of soul she had into the lyrics of her favorite song. California King Bed by Rihanna was an older song, but she said she loved the way it sounded. She fell flat on some notes and couldn't find the correct pitch for others but seeing her put her heart and soul into what she was doing made me shove aside most of my gripes.
She finished then shyly looked up at me, bushing her wavy hair behind her ear. I gave her my feedback, saying she had a lovely voice, but a vocal coach could help her improve. Scarlet tinted her cheeks as she said that she'd always been urged to go to something like American Idol or The Voice but she never though she'd make it past the audition. I felt for her.
"You never know unless you try. You seem like the ambitious type, so why not at least give it a shot?"
She hesitated. I saw her vibrant blue eyes flicker from me to the bed before she finally looked up at me with an affirming nod. "Fuck it. Let's do it." She pumped her fists in the air. "I'm gonna look for vocal coaches now." She pulled out her phone and began typing.
"You don't waste any time." I chuckled, shifting slightly on the bed.
This woman was incredible; she seemed like a party girl when I met her, but she was focused on pursuing something she'd been told she had no hope of achieving. I couldn't believe someone like this existed.
Five weeks, three days, seven hours, and nine minutes. That's how long it'd taken for such a beautiful soul to become corrupted. She was a stunning, rare beauty that brightened up my life and was well on her way to making something of herself. Unfortunately, she was in a downward spiral that she was unable to pull herself out of.
Rewind. It all started the night of that party, she was showing me around and introducing me to her friends while telling them why I was in California. They all seemed rather skeptical when it came to my singing prowess but that's not the focus of the tale. There happened to be a few members of a recording company at the party, not some huge name in the music industry, but a recording company nonetheless.
Apparently, they were just there to kick back and relax and not scout talent. That intention quickly changed once they heard her on the karaoke machine. We did a duet and she stole the show. Within a week she was in front of a producer. The week after she was signed and meeting with vocal coaches. Her life was on the upswing and she was telling me she was thinking of moving out here and completely throwing herself into this industry.
I warned her that she shouldn't put all her eggs in one basket. She nodded…I felt off at that moment, but I brushed it off. My feelings for her overrode the logical portion of my brain. Fast forward to now. I was watching her being carted off in an ambulance. Cocaine overdose. I visited her after a couple of days. She was going to be okay but needed to be carted off to rehab. I sat at the foot of her bed for a while just listening to the heart monitor. I thought about the fun we'd had leading up to…this. We shared our hopes, our dreams, our stories of small towns…even our stories of our first loves.
I set the flowers I had bought for her the night she was admitted at the foot of her bed, placed a kiss on her forehead, then went about my business. I tried not to let it get to me, but I would always know that I'd never get the chance to make her mine because life, no matter how much you want it to, will not stand still. Not for you. Not for anyone.
London, England. I had been performing for a few months and had some down time after a show, so I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. I found myself near the London Eye, before I knew it, I was being seated with another person, a young woman with the worst case of resting bitch face I'd seen since stepping off the plane. Silence hung heavily in the air, but I didn't care. I was enjoying the view. The waters below shimmered with the lights from the city, a sense of awe settled in my chest. That's when inspiration struck; a slight tune popped into my head with possible lyrics tagging along. Soon, my small song book was in my hands, but I didn't have a pencil.
"Here. Looks like you could use it." The woman deadpanned. She held out a pencil for me to take. I didn't think she saw my less-than-enthused face when I realized I'd forgotten mine.
"Thanks." I shot her a smile before going back to writing.
"You're the one who performed tonight aren't you?"
My head shot up. "Me?"
"Nah, I was talking to the pencil in your hand." She quipped, a ghost of a smirk playing at her lips.
"Ha-ha, very funny. Well, I did do a show tonight in Edmonton. Guessing you were there."
She nodded. "Got quite the set of pipes on you don't you."
"And you've got quite the silver tongue on you."
She sat back in her seat, crossing her legs. "So, the singer extraordinaire can hang. Cool."
"Cool."
That was how it began. I met a sharp-tongued girl during my stay in London and we hit it off. She was tough as nails. I learned that very quickly, that and the fact that she could out drink any man in any bar that we went to, toss them out of a window if they got mouthy, and run faster than Usain Bolt while wearing heels. She was amazing, she was independent, and she was trouble. Not 'get arrested and spend the night in jail' trouble, more like the sort of trouble that carries, at worst, being chased by the bouncers at a club.
Our time together was great, there was never a dull moment. If we weren't hauling ass down an alley to avoid some guys she'd pissed off, we were at her flat listening to records, dancing like no one was watching. Moments like this made me value her and the things she brought into my life. We'd talk for ages about nothing, spend hours sharing the stories of our lives, or just lay with each other. She was a woman who knew who she was, and that aspect of her personality made me care for her even more.
"Your poems? What about them?"
"I got an offer to turn them into a book. Some dude struck up a conversation with me while I was jotting down something. He said his uncle was a publisher."
"Did you meet him?"
She nodded. "He loved them. This could turn into something real."
Silence hung in the air as she rubbed my arm. I sat up slowly and looked her in the eye. "Do it."
He eyes widened a bit, but her composure remained. "What about…us?"
"I feel like…I feel like we're going in two different directions right now. We've had an amazing time together, but if it comes down to me or your dream, please pick your dream."
And that was that. Our time together came to a well concluded end. I had to leave London eventually. My dream beckoned for me and I had to follow it. That's why I let her go, I knew all too well that you only get one shot to make your dream a reality and not taking it would lead to a lifetime of regret. I still think about her when I go to London, but I know we've both got way better things to do than relive the past.