Don’t Be Annoying…
In that moment I didn’t know what hurt worst, my pride, my face, or both.
Part I.
While we were on our way to the party you had asked me if I was nervous. I had replied that I was because I didn’t know everyone.
“They’re all really cool plus you met them at Coachella.”
I had met this group a few months prior but I didn’t really know them, nor did I remember all of their names. I knew Bryan and Jamie already because you worked with them at the shop, and they were goofy and always sweet to me. “Hey! you and my girlfriend Sam would get along so well! You two have to meet one another!” Bryan would tell me every time I saw him.
Meeting new groups of people was never easy for me. In fact, it would cause me so much anxiety beforehand that I would have trouble eating that day. On occasion, you would be supportive and introduce me to your friends 2–3 at a time, rather than a group of 5 or more.
I found myself thinking back to when I had first met your family for a summer barbeque and you hand taken my hand into yours and kissed it, telling me, “I know you’re nervous and I promise I won’t leave you alone.”
This time as we pulled outside of someone’s home in a secluded area of the city you said to me, “Don’t be annoying towards these guys, that way they’ll like you.”
I immediately wanted to ask you if I could just go home. You had told me in the past at your 20th birthday that none of your friends liked me — I remember being stunned by the information.
“You know, none of my friends like you.”
“Why? What did I do?” I had asked.
“You’re just annoying and make them feel like they can’t be themselves. Like, no one wants to drink around you because you always try to stop them or tell them that they’re fucked up and need to chill.”
When in fact the only person that was fucked up at that party was you.
You were so drunk that you needed me to help hold you up so you could pee on the side of the yard. No one had ever said anything like that to me and I was close to your friend Nadia. She would have told me, wouldn’t she? I thought to myself.
“Please don’t leave me alone until I’m comfortable?” I asked almost begging you.
“Quit being so high maintenance! You’ll be fine, I don’t need to be your babysitter. Just be cool so they like you.”
When presented with uncomfortable situations you would pour me a shot and hand me a beer to chase it down. “Liquid courage.” is what you would call it.
“Feel better?” you asked. I scrunched my face up as the vodka burned going down my throat. “Why do you always have to make a face when you take a shot? It’s not even that bad.”
You always knew how to cover up your anger by laughing and smiling like you were trying to be cute or funny. No one knew that you were serious — but I did, because the smile never reached your eyes.
As everyone introduced themselves to me, Bryan and Sam arrived, and Bryan was eager to introduce me to Sam. We said our hello’s and began to join in on the drinking games.
“Who wants to play WAR?!” Jamie shouted. We began to play with everyone and Robert was kind enough to explain the rules to me so I wasn’t completely lost with the game.
“Do you flirt to try to make me jealous?” you slurred. I knew better than to talk back to you and stated
“He’s just trying to explain the game to me.” I continued.
“Yeah, okay Arielle.” you finished.
“Come on baby girl, make the shot,” you said so close to my ear that your hot breath caused me to shiver. I was next in line to take a turn. I took a deep breath aiming for the corner right red cup. When I had let go of the ball I saw that I had overshot it, and missed.
I looked at you and began to laugh while saying “Oopsies!” Before I could let out the next batch of giggles you slapped me across the face, then turned to take your shot as if nothing had happened.
I was too ashamed to make eye contact with anyone but could see out of the corner of my eye that Sam and Bryan were talking to one another in hushed voices. The other 10 people in the room seemed too engrossed in the game or were grabbing more beers from the cooler to realize what you had just done.
I started to quickly walk to the bathroom, with you turning on your heel to follow me, “Arielle! Arielle!” I pretended not to hear you and quickly locked the door behind myself.
“I have to go to the bathroom, I think I accidentally tore my contact!” I shouted back at you. I knew that I would only have a few minutes to straighten myself up before you would knock on the bathroom door again. I turned on the water to muffle any noise that would escape my mouth as I did my best to silently cry.
In that moment I didn’t know what hurt worst, my pride, my face, or both.
I couldn’t find the appropriate rationale in my head for why you did what you did. No excuse was justifiable enough.
I would later learn that someone had seen what you did.
*Authors note: Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.
