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The Truth
by Angela ThomasI slept with a boy last night. Or, should I say, yesterday morning. It felt
useless and I may have put a little more effort in than I actually believed
it or he deserved. I didn't really feel bad afterward. There was no moment
of silence, no screaming in my head and asking myself, "What have I done
now?" We went to Hot and Crusty for breakfast. He likes cheap food and
I'm obsessed with Frisse, it seemed like a comprimise. On the way, he kept
putting his arm around my shoulder, like a proud animal to show his most
recent conquest. I am no one's conquest. The truth is that maybe I like him,
but not enough. Not more than I've liked other men. So, why bother? Allie,
Amy, and I were at some mexican restaurant, sitting at a little white table
drinking margaritas out of plastic cups shaped like cactus when she announces,
"You are the only single girl our age I know that's not strapped for a boyfriend.
Why is that?" The question was so loud in my head, it was like in the movies
when everything stops and goes quiet suddenly. The main character, (that
would be me), would look at her friend squarely in the eye and, holding her
glass, she would reply, "The best part about the margarita is the salt... Just my
truth." 10/01/2006 Posted on 10/01/2006
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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