You Tell Me

Written By Andrina Voegele

Author Bio: Senior in College in New York City. I love every and all water sports, which is a real inconvenience living in New York. I have written 2 Books, "When Nothing's Right" and "Taquants: Zwischen Traum und Wirklichkeit", always working on something new. 

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It was a good night. A really good night. We had drinks, my best friend and I. And some tacos, because who doesn’t love some tacos after a long day of being annoyed at the world? But I guess the drinks are more important to this story, since they are kind of the reason that I am even writing this.

See, it was a good night. We went to that pub on the corner right next to my house. The one we’ve never been to but I keep mentioning? Yea, that one. We were there. Laughing, joking, gossiping. The more alcohol flowed, the more inappropriate information we shared. It’s weird because we always pretend to have boundaries, but we are best friends, so, let’s face it, we don’t have any of those. 

Your name came up. A few times, actually. I complained. About this and that and nothing really, because what could I even complain about? We have the perfect arrangement. And I do believe that, I really do. Most nights, at least. There could be some improvements, I will admit. Yea, some things do bother me. But overall, it’s a pretty sweet deal, I convinced myself of that months ago. Until we walked into that second bar, my best friend and I. You weren’t there. But she was; she was in the corner.

You’re reading this and wondering ‘who is she’? Yea, darling, who is she? Which one of the other girls that you say don’t matter, but that are oh so crazy for you and yet you don’t care? Let me give you a hint: She has dark hair, just like me and it’s just as straight. Do you have a type? I was never sure, but let me stand next to her for a second and you tell me. Trick question. You look a hell of a lot like the guy I slept with before you, except you don’t know that. But I know what she looks like. Because she was sitting in that damn corner.

Okay, I will admit, I shouldn’t even know. It was some accidental Instagram stalking, that kind that happens absentmindedly. One click here, another tag there, oh let’s follow that lead and boom, there was her profile. Don’t blame me, she made it way too easy.

Like I said, it was a good night. And then I saw her in the corner. I hate that it matters. It shouldn’t, she doesn’t. I know. But there is your conscious mind, the one that can control what you think you feel, and then there is your subconscious. Id, as Freud called it. Remember that? We learned that in Intro to Psych. Can’t believe it’s been 2 years since we met in that class.

I saw her in that corner and there were do many things I wanted to say. But also nothing. Because she doesn’t really matter, right? You told me that. Twice, even. But here is where it gets tricky: When I walked in, when she turned her head, what was she thinking? Pretty dark haired girl, good style? Or, maybe, just maybe she thought: That’s her. But she doesn’t matter, he keeps saying that.

So, what was she thinking? You tell me."