“You Are Not a Victim”

a short story about covert narcissism

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She barks, looking up at me from behind her coffee mug.

She’s drinking out of the one with the stupid macaroni and cheese designs on it today. Who would design such a mug, let alone, buy one? It’s the most obnoxious thing ever. Don’t get me started on the indicators which tell how much coffee is left in the cup. “Cheesy”, “Cheesier”, and “Cheesiest”. If I ever take my own life, it’s because of this stupid mug.

“I’m going to that bar Dave and I used to go to”, I respond.

I miss Dave. It’s been maybe a week since we’ve hung out. We got into a stupid argument about Hondas and Toyotas and we haven’t really talked since. I want to go out tonight, and that bar is a great scene. Maybe he’ll be there, maybe not — but either way, I’ll have a good time. I’d only been there with Dave, but it is such a great scene. We would eat chicken wings and throw darts together. Maybe I’ll make some new friends and we’ll play. Maybe I won’t and I’ll just enjoy playing by myself. Maybe Dave will see me hit a couple of bullseyes and come say hi. What if he gets weirded out by seeing me there? I’m sure I’d find out, and I’d just leave like a gentleman.