being right

Posted: June 15, 2010 by Jan Oda in fiction

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She’d never been good at relationships.

As a child, she had always been the goofy girl. The oddball. She was a scrawny kid, never allowed outside during school. She never got to play with the kitten, when all the other kids got a turn.

In high school, she had a major crush on the twins. Tall and lean, they were the most popular boys around. They dated girl after girl — and even some boys — until the only oddball left was her. When they finally asked her out, the day before her 18th birthday, she couldn’t say no. They were the twins, after all. She had wanted to be with them forever!

The twins took her to The Lap, a raunchy bar with a famous darkroom where girls gave their dates a lap dance. She didn’t want to, but they were so attractive and convincing in their shiny sharp suits. She caved. They seduced her, working as a team. They unbraided her hair, loosened the knots that held her wrap-dress together.

Afterwards she felt worn-out and brand new at the same time. It was the night she became an adult. But she never saw the twins again.

And then she met him.

He was a perfect fit. He didn’t leave her after making out, but preferred to snuggle against her back at night. After work, he always cleaned up first before coming back to her. And he always came back.

But perfect got boring. Somehow they ended up in a rut. She didn’t know what to do at first, wondered if he felt it too, or if she was the only one. Should they break up? Could they live apart? They had been together so long. But when she couldn’t keep silent on the subject any longer, he asked her out on a date. It had been ages since they went out together, and she was relieved and grateful that somehow he knew her well enough to understand what she needed. And she needed to dance with him, to fall in love again.

He took her to The Machine, the wildest club in the area, and she was positively static. They danced, they got drunk. She closed her eyes while she danced all the worries away. But when she wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how alike they were, how no one understood her better than him, he was gone.

At first she thought he had gone for another round of drinks. But when he didn’t return, she started to wade through the crowd looking for him. He was nowhere to be found. Had he left her? Stood her up? How could he? They belonged together!

When the daylight seeped through the club window and she still hadn’t found him, she realized she was alone again.

When she arrived home, her last hope that he would be there — waiting for her, ready to curl up in bed with her — died a silent death.

She wouldn’t cry. She deserved better than this. Somewhere out there was her Mr. Perfect. And she would find him. Because she deserved him. Right?

A story about a right sock.

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  1. John Wiswell says:

    A story about a right sock.

    May she find her matching left some day. If she doesn’t, it may well be for want of trying.

  2. rightsock says:

    Uhm doesn’t want of trying mean that she didn’t try enough leftsock?

  3. 2mara says:

    Just goes to show we are never truly happy with what we have.

    Great story,

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