23 September 2012

Contextual Mediocrity, Pt. II


A strange darkness descended from overhead and splashed onto the table, bathing Emily and her immediate surroundings in a warm glow as the restaurant dimmed its lights for the dinner shift. Ariel sat directly across from her, but she appeared not to notice, her eyes focused intensely on her cell phone and thumbs working furiously, pounding out a seemingly endless stream of essay-length text messages. Emily chose not to ponder what on earth her friend could have to say that was so important that she couldn't even focus on her food or the drinks they'd ordered. She sighed and laid her head on her hand and looked out across the crowded dining room, surveying the young smiles and grins, the laughs and guffaws, and the beginning hints of slurred speech that would soon become more and more pronounced as the night continued and the guests that began filtering in consumed more and more. Directly to her left was a particularly young couple, definitely not part of the prime time bar crowd, who had finished their meal a quite some time ago and were now picking at the remains of bones of barbecued wings, french fries, and seasoned mozzarella sticks. The boy had a bowl of black hair, the bangs of which nearly covered his eyes and he had to continuously brush them away to get a better look at who, Emily assumed, must have been his girlfriend (or at the least, date for the night): a dangerously beautiful brunette, stern eyes and a twitch in her lips that indicated some sort of experience or wisdom beyond her years. She intimidated him, Emily could tell. But he held his own...he met each gaze, smiled at the right moments, laughed at all her jokes, kept pace in the conversation. The girl was clearly enjoying herself, but the young man was hopelessly in love. It was written all over his face, and he was acutely aware of this, constantly having to strain to not look so goofily smitten. Emily's interest was momentarily held as she took all this in, and within a moment she could tell, this smoldering brunette was going to take this boy's virginity tonight. The scene pinched her heart slightly, and she let her mind wander, remembering when she was so young and headstrong, how the boys used to lie down at her feet.

Meanwhile she could see, to her right, the bartender in another section, clad in a tight black vest, restlessly cleaning glasses and setting them on the polished wood surface upside down, paying no attention to the task at hand. Instead he was focused on Ariel, who was now slumped backward in her seat, still staring at her phone with a detached, glazed-over look, and Emily could feel that he wanted her. She wondered what that must feel like now, to be the center of attention: to know that every man in the room who saw you, even glanced at you in passing, instantly wanted to fuck you. But she let it go, because deep down she knew that not even Ariel was aware of this or could let the whole ego-trip thing go to her head. She was too wrapped up in her Blackberry to know what was even going on around her, let alone the fact that she was supposed to be on a dinner date with her so-called best friend, whom she had not seen in a very long time and that this should be a very enjoyable evening indeed. Instead they had spoken for about five minutes, then the appetizers and drinks had arrived and Emily watched, feeling somewhat dejected and ignored, as her former college roommate simply forgot she existed. She sighed and drummed her fingers on the table, trying to amuse herself, unsure of how to proceed. It wasn't that Emily was particularly bitter or resented the fact that Ariel had her own set of priorities and interests (like deciding not to finish school) that were completely separate from her own. Ariel liked working in a department store, selling superficial, expensive clothes to superficial, expensive people, and spending at least a quarter of each paycheck (after the rent and utilities at her downtown apartment were all accounted for) at any given number of clubs and glitzy joints that pumped obnoxious electronic music through the speakers and allowed her a sort of detached enjoyment—she could dance and flirt with whoever she wanted, even grind right up against them, without ever actually having to get too close—and Emily knew this. It was just that when they actually decided to get together and sit down (which was happening less and less frequently, maybe once every two months), she found she simply had nothing to say. It was as if they were living on two separate planets now, one where Ariel existed in her own little bubble and floated around, poking other bubbles curiously and then reverting to its own isolated, fixed position, while Emily meanwhile was getting caught up in the void of the real world: commuters and traffic and nine-to-five and coffee bars and cigarette breaks and Letterman. What it really came down to, it dawned on her suddenly, was that they had absolutely nothing in common anymore. She had graduated from college over three years ago and moved on; Ariel, on the other hand, seemed to just drift further and further inward, never growing or expanding. Her entire experience and perception of reality was drenched in the music and media that permeated every aspect of 21st century life, and she did seem to not mind this, while Emily desperately fought and railed against the consumer-machine, trying to maintain some sense of self-control and individuality without forfeiting what she valued most: that primal, deep connection she felt toward other human beings, the part of her that was aching for attention and companionship but always ended up disgusted with what she found waiting behind every door, every phone number, every blind date in every over-crowded, noisy cafe across the street from her office.

She snapped out of this tangential train of thought and realized she, too, had started to daydream and drift off in her own head. She suddenly felt very annoyed. She no longer valued their time spent together, watching Ariel text her boyfriends and laugh at inside jokes. Instead, she wanted to go home. She eyed the young couple to her left, who were beginning to shuffle out of the booth, with envy. The boy, wisely, Emily thought, pulled out his wallet and dropped a hefty tip on the table, then flashed his date a smile and offered up his arm. What a gentleman, Emily thought. That confirmed it: he was definitely going to score. She felt a wistful longing for the days of her youth now, wondering what had happened to her freedom, to the days when she could meet someone's gaze and know precisely, in that moment, that they were seeing her in return, and that connection, that hidden part, would glow vibrantly and confirm what she was experiencing was genuine. She wondered what had happened to her and her friend. No; what had happened to society. To her generation.

“I said, do you think I should try the Yogo-Berry Martini?”

“What?” Emily shook her head and realized Ariel was actually saying something to her. “Oh, I don't know,” she sighed. “Why not?”

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