When she entered, no soul noticed. She was the slithering kind, the one who entered and exited at her own will, always unnoticed. Her name was Abby. petite and brown with thick rimmed glasses (Although the picture provided above is a white girl… Lady Saurus unfortunately couldn’t find any stock photos of brown people that weren’t offensive).
Anyway, her heart beat in her ears as she made her way through the crowd of drunk peers, much bigger than her, hitting her in the forehead (by accident or whatever). Music pulsed and bodies moved. Her eyes glanced over the crowd. Everyone looked familiar. “I hate white people bars,” she whispered to herself realizing that sometimes she herself might be problematic.
She finds her place at the bar, struggling to get up on the empty bar stool. She then places a ripped Faux jacket on the empty seat besides her. Faux, because she’s not made of money and Forever 21 was having a sale three years ago.
“What will it be?” The Bartender asks.
“Just a water. I’m waiting for a… friend.” She replies.
“If the bar gets busy I’m going to need to ask you to move, if you aren’t gonna drink.” The Bartender retorts.
Abby immediately rolls her eyes so hard they get stuck at the back of her head. She orders a club soda.
The truth is, Abby wasn’t waiting for a friend, she was waiting for her most recent Tinder match which made it even better because Abby loves Tinder. Tinder is her nightcap, her bedtime game, her post sleeping pill activity.
After a few moments of sipping on her club soda and checking her hair in her Iphone camera, Abby spots her “friend”.
His name is Todd. The type of guy who wears band t-shirts and jeans everyday, sporting floppy hair and a mustache that seemed like a memory. Abby now realizes she swiped right because he had a picture with a cat in his profile. That was the main attraction. His cat not him. Oops.
Suddenly, Abby realizes, she has made a huge mistake because Todd looks like he listens to smooth jazz for the “culture” and says the word “woke” for fun. Abby, quickly hides her face in her phone attempting to disguise herself. After a few moments, Todd spots her and walks over.
“Yo, girl whats up? Abby, right?” He shouts over the Bar music.
Abby looks up sweat gathering on her unwaxed mustache and whispers, “Yo soy, Maria.”
Todd stumbles away confused and Abby heads home.
Later that night he texts her.
“Hey, was that you?”
“Hey, is Maria your nickname?”