The Substitute - A short story from the 'Images from the life of a social sputum' collection

She didn’t actually look bad at all.

She tries too hard, that’s the thing. Makeup a tad too strong. Clothes screaming for attention. All of it is somehow cheap and pathetic, though. A guy that can’t afford to be picky would jump her like a tiger. At the end of the day however, she is no more than basic. Average, maybe even a bit below.

She’s there alone. Nowhere to retreat, regroup and attack anew. She’s bursting, desperate. Which is why she’s buzzing. From person to person, same story, same tone, same phrases even. And as time goes on, and her energy depletes, it’s more and more obvious that everything’s a mask, a farce, that she’s forcing herself to keep going even though every instinct is telling her to quit, go home and cry herself to sleep like a human being.

He rejected her. For whatever reason, most likely because she’s, well, not enough. She doesn’t have much to offer, and he knows he could do better. And everything went to shit from there. Her pride kicked in, spite, anger, whatever it is these strange creatures we call women experience in those situations. And a singular goal became a priority – be with someone, and make sure he sees it. Doesn’t matter anymore.

She went for the second best, of course. Not happening. His buddy. Not really. Now anyone paying attention, which is not difficult in a bar that small with around a dozen people present, notices what’s going on. Chances are dropping rapidly, as is her dignity. She’s thrown away so much of it already that it seems her only option was to actually hook up with someone and pretend that was the plan all along. People are laughing, she’s losing her shit, like a dog whose owners have people over for the first time. She doesn’t know where to go, who to talk to, she isn’t keeping track of the type or amount of her drinks.

It’s late, and the show becomes dull. He goes for one last piss and, without looking back, leaves. A couple is kissing in a relatively solitary half-dark corner next to the exit, obvious despite the hiding place. She found the most miserable creature in the group, who’s probably on a decade-long dry spell and not choosy at all.

Fuck.