Saturday 14 March 2015

Pretentious - 4

If you are new to the series, here is Part 1, 2 and 3.

PS: Contains profanity. 


I stood there, humiliated. My face was fifty shades of red. The voices in my head were still on mute, though a few of them were starting to become faintly audible. "What?" "What just happened?" "Did he just? "Fuck." 

The elevator door closed, it had to go back up. Elevators don't wait for poor, humiliated girls to compose themselves and walk to their cars in parking lots. Elevators couldn't care less. I stalled the closing door and walked out of it. I could feel the heat in my cheeks rise in the warm night. I wouldn't cry, granny had thought me to never to cry over jerks. Yet, my feet struggled to find ground. My brain struggled to remember where my parked car was. 

I finally figured out and reached the spot where my car was. I unlocked it, the unlock alarm echoed through the empty parking lot. I opened the back door and dumped my bag in. I kicked my heels off and threw them in too. Cold floor beneath my feet made me feel a grain better. I walked over to the other side and opened the door. All I wanted to do was go home. 

"A!", he was on the other side by his car. 

I didn't have any patience left. Plus, I was honestly worried of straight slapping him. I didn't want to be impulsive ,though he very well deserved a tight slap. While I convinced myself not to slap him, he walked towards me. 

"Listen, I am sorry. I have been a jerk to you", he smiled. He smiled like he had played just a little prank on me, you know. A prank where you just 'Boooo' someone from behind a door startling them.

He stood next to me and smiled more.

"Fuck off. And then fuck off some more." My voice was assertive. 

I got into my car and slapped the door on his face. 

"Okay", he grinned and blew a kiss to my side mirror.


The engine roared to life. I didn't as much as pause for a second to look back. My mind went into an overdrive and within ten minutes, my car and me were a part of the insanely slow moving traffic. I turned the volume high, I needed to drown the voices in my head. 

When I finally reached home at 11 30 PM, I was exhausted. I kicked my heels in and dumped my sorry self on the beanie. Self pity is the worst kind of pity. Worse? That moment when the anger and humiliation turn to tears and all you want to do is bawl. That positively sucks. You know this glorification of having to have emotions and feel deep? I don't quite get that. I am mostly wondering where people get so much feelings from. Like really. Most of my life, I have washed the feelings away with shots of tequila and drowned them in hangovers. I have told myself that I need to stay on point in my game. And that, anybody that doesn't seem in line with my thought cycle are just, not meant to stay in there. I am a cold hearted bitch, to summarize. 

So well, when I found myself dumped on the beanie, showing symptoms of an emotional fool, I picked myself up. I couldn't really afford myself an emotional breakdown over an ass. Okay, so he thinks too high of his own self and that is his opinion. I can choose to label him whatever I want to, right? Its not going to matter either ways. This sense of mind control gave me a piece of relief. 

Thoughts still swam in my head and I made myself a healthy dinner. Salad. I couldn't really handle the guilt of pigging for an entire week. With my shame of a dinner and a bottle of processed juice that apparently contained multi-vitamins and the potion to young age and skin like the bottom of a 10 month old, I sprang my laptop to life. To losing myself in infinite scrolling and binge watching sitcoms, I consoled myself. My Facebook account threw 28 notifications. Random friends' friends liking and commenting on random photos, creepy guys wanting to do fraaaandship in my inbox. I appreciated the perseverance of one fellow who was 'Hey'ing me with complete dedication from an year and a half. I was so overcome with pity, I almost typed a 'Hey' back. The friend request tab showed a 3. I clicked on it and one name caught my attention, instantly. 

Siddarth Sharma (12 mutual friends) wants to be friends with you.

I withheld the urge to decline and block him but whom was I kidding? My fingers moved like they owned me and the next second, I was staring into his pretentious account. His profile picture was a candid click. He was all aviators clad and intently gazing into the setting sun on a pristine beach. Blue waters reflected orange and his hair framed his stupid face, grazing his forehead. 

I decided to check the 12 mutual friends who were already sucked into his jerk aura. "I won't accept the request", I told myself. "Let it rot there, I will show him who the boss is". Oh the virtual useless sense of power social media gives you! 

Until my eyes fell on the name of the institution in his 'About'.

A million memories passed through my head like electricity. 

Sid. be continued. 


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PS: Fiction.
PPS: How do you like it? :) Let me know. 


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