I’m the girl you meet at the bar, the one you’ll flirt with, the one who’ll stumble back to your place at 2am, words slurring, clothes flying everywhere.
I’m the girl you meet at the club, dressed in a shirt that’s probably too low and a skirt I can’t sit comfortably in. Our eyes will meet from across the bar, my bright red lipstick alluring you more than you’d openly admit. I’ll be the one with a whiskey neat, an AMF, or maybe a long island. Anything strong enough to give me that liquid courage.
I’m the girl you take shots with, our breath smelling like alcohol as the words flow oh so smoothly. We talk about superficial things – our favorite bars, favorite restaurants, favorite hangover food. We never approach anything too serious, after all we’re just here to have fun.
I’m the girl who grabs you to the dance floor, yelling ‘this is my jam.’ Our hips grind to the sound of the music. It seems so easy. We’re without a care in the world, it’s just us and the music.
I’m the girl who will grab your face and plant one on you. Confident. Forceful. You’ll know I want you. The one who will make out with you on the dance floor. A room full of people and yet I could care less. I’ll block them out, convince myself it’s just you and I.
I’ll allow myself to be flirted with, to be charmed by you. However, I won’t be naive. I won’t find myself in this alternate reality when you want me for me. I’ll know it’s all bar talk; you’re just here for the moment, never the long run.
I’ll allow you to play me, partially because I’m playing you. I’m flirting with you, using my charm and the presence of my body to allure you.
I’m here for the moment, come morning I’ll be gone.
Maybe I shouldn’t be proud of this. I’m just another player. An empty girl searching for a fix. But, maybe it’s temporary. I wasn’t always this girl. I used to want something more, something real. I didn’t want to be the girl you took home; I wanted to be the girl you woke up to.
Maybe it’s just temporary.
I’m lonely and need something to fill my empty crevices. I need to feel wanted. Like I’m important. Like I matter.
Or maybe it’s as superficial, as the world’s a bit quiet at 2am and sleeping alone is no fun.
All I know is, in this moment, I could care less. I have no regrets. It’s just fun and games.
I’m the girl you drunkenly hit on and I’m perfectly fine with that.