Confessions of an (Adult) Drama Queen

I love to go out and lose myself in the music.

Nothing else matters besides the thumping of my feet,

and the hair stuck to the back of my neck.

It makes me feel like I'm in a movie, honestly.

The main character

who locks eyes with a guy across the room,

as he stands at the bar with one foot crossed over the other.

And an old fashioned in his hand, how chic.

I become self-conscious of my sweaty hair, how my body is moving in its'

buzzed state.

And then I remember not to care about those two things, because

I am a baddie.

He comes over after a while, after forever.

We keep looking at each other over my sea of friends, who are really, mostly just acquaintances. On these nights, everyone feels like a friend.

The movie reel keeps spinning, and he meets me at the edge of the dance floor. I say hi.

He says Hi.

He has big teeth. And I tell him that, or rather, my three vodka cranberries tell him that.

He brushes the hair out of my eyes and tucks a strand behind my ear. Everything seems to melt away.

At some point, at 1:30am, the last call is announced by the tired bartenders and the lights start to come up, gradually.

I don't want the night to end, I never do.

I never have as much energy as I do during my movie, when it's 1:30am and my feet are aching and I'm dancing with a stranger.

I live for these moments.

We look at each other and I know that we won't ask for the other's number and I will never see him again

After This Moment.

My Love.

He kisses me on the cheek after the music stops, and my heart sinks.

Just a little.

Because my friends/acquaintances are calling the Uber and shuffling me outside so they can light a cigarette.

I turn around,

Wave one last time at him, and he gives me a salute, like he's going off to war.

I get a little sad, but sit squished in the middle seat of the Uber, singing "Party in the USA" and the movie reel ends on a high note.

Now I go home and wait for the next movie

to start.