Too many dramas in my life within my teenage life. I had fallen, I had crumbled, I was even defeated by the emotional cycle of love. I blamed myself as much as I blamed the guys involved. Call me a diva, call me a bitch, no other way around, I held my head high and marched on with life. But lo behold, did I hurt myself more in the end. Depression took over me as I despised guys. Despised their selfishness for putting their needs, their interest before me.
I decided that it is time to serve my best dish forward. A dish called Revenge, best served cold. Without thinking of my family's reputation and honor, ultimately my self-honor, I began drowning my sorrow. I got involved in the nightlife heavily. I spent my hard-earned money on fashion and booze. Well, at that foolish point of time, I thought, I will be all nice and pretty, will prey on guys, hurt them where it hurt most and leave them in the cold. What a plan!
So shopping I did with a partner-in-crime and getting all those clothes, trying not to act my age. With bags in tow, we decided to park our butts at a popular pub, while I nurse an aching desire for some booze and resting our little feet giving them a break from all those walking aroud town. As we sat and chat and tried to lift our moods, a live band played near the beer garden that we were hanging out at. We were attracted to the melodious voice and great accompaniment of the music. Lull into space we did and came a chance for my plan to fall into action.
A pint of beer came to my table, bill settled and came a note from the server, "You look gorgeous." Chuckle I did as I thought, men and their words. Not knowing which Tom, Dick or Harry bought me the drink, I declined the offer as the server took it away. My friend fumed at my blondness as I told her, "Just watch...." True enough, to my calculated expectation, a man appeared soon after the band went for their first break. He introduced himself as the band member and asked smoothly, if any other drinks would be to my liking, instead of the first. Bingo! We had Mr Musician who was generous enough to clear my bill and get us drinks. "Let's take him for a ride", my heart whispered.
We had quite an intellectual conversation, and of course I played my cards well enough. Not to give too much information of myself away, just to leave a smokescreen to bait his man-hunger. He finally succeded in getting drinks for me and my friend, thinking that we will at least make it work for him, or to at least stay till his next set. Apart from conversing with him, I acted nonchalant to his mere existence. Mens like him fume in anger silently as to why young "fishes" like me do not bite his "bait". Soon, he had to go back to stage for his performance.
In an attempt to get my attention, he dedicated a song, My Sacrifice, to the 2 girls whose feet are tired from all those shoppings. Damn! I love that song! But I did what any girl might not have done. Less than half way through the song, I picked up my shopping bags, haggled my dreamy friend off the stool and exitted the pub. Did not turn back and hailed a cab and left for home.
With a puzzled look, my friend nearly killed me with all her neverending questions: "Are you crazy? He bought us drinks, dedicated a song to us and all you did was to walk away? Are you going bonkers? Are you not feeling well? Do you want to go to the doctor's?" So on and so forth. I just looked at her and told her, "He will look for us, if he wants to, ok?" I closed my eyes to her non-stop rambling about how cold I was to him when all he was being was nice to us.
Rude I was not but it was too obvious for my eyes that Mr Musician was a tad too desperate, or, he was one who never fails in his conquests, which I believe so. He was more than 10 years my senior and I was supposed to go gaga over him, cos he had the "musical package". What I had was just revenge on my little evil mind. A few weeks went by and not a day I stepped into the pub, I frequented other places to get my booze fix and one fine evening, we decided to patronise that fateful beer garden.
Delighted was not what he expressed when I walked passed him over to the table that we had reserved. More like disappointment edging on anger. I waved him a non committal hello and all he did was, turn his back on me. How cute! A man at his age playing the sulking game. I decided I liked this game and anyone care to explain, what is it among these musicians that has a very competitive edge amongst them? We girls were doing the normal gossip girls routine, fresh hot stories out from the stove, an apple martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other, when a guy, of about our age came by and asked me directly,"Do you want to learn how to play the guitar? I can teach you." Looking at my girl's reaction, we burst into girlish giggles and with tears in my eyes, I just looked at the guy in amazement. He looked and said, "Is that the worst pick up line you have heard? I'm sorry. I just want to be your friend." One point for honesty!
We invited him to sit at our sofa and he gladly accepted the offer. So the girls drilled him with lots of questions and Mr Pick Up Line entertained them with many short anecdotes that brought more laughters from the girls. I enjoyed his company but yet at the corner of my eye, I saw Mr Musician looking through at me with searing sight. Turns out that Mr Pick Up Line was a part of another band that plays in the club and invitation to enter the club were quickly snapped up by my girls.
I excused myself for a breather outside and Mr Musician happens to be outside too, smoking in silence. How convenient! He did not waste time in telling me, how hurt he was when I left the other time without even saying goodbye and the least of courtesy to leave a number. I was shocked at the apprehension. I laughed a nervous laugh and he turned all sad. He told me he just wanted to be a friend and how lonely it can get being a musician. My heart almost went out to him as I just traced his arm and affirmed our little new friendship. Poof! Sadness gone, I could see excitement in his eyes. He offered a lift back and I declined as the girls will be in the club with our little new friend, Mr Pick Up Line.
And I thought girls are the worst at bitching, Mr Musician turned on his bitch-mode and told on Mr Pick Up Line, how he is attached to a bar hostess at another club. And how arrogant he can get, just because he is skillful with his tounge, as in, he was good at strumming the guitar with his tounge! Ouch! I waved all that away and told him I will call him the next day. Went into the club, Mr Pick Up Line was already on stage with his band. He was quite awesome for his age. I watched in awe and my girls mouthed to me, "Lucky Bitch!" Little did they know, I knew Mr Pick Up Line has got some commitment going around somewhere behind that mask.
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