Across the Universe
As you might expect, I was once a teenage girl. I had a few close friends, we had similar interests. We all had similar taste in the same shitty punk music. Being as we were all born in Oklahoma, we have low standards by default. Not only are we not expected to make it through high school without being impregnated, if we make it to college, we will be the first ones in our families to attend college. Now I may be exaggerating a bit, but our future did have a nice bright spot just ahead for us.
Following in American tradition, we took the opportunity of a national holiday to take the money of our parents and go eat. We avoid all of the restaurants that might involve families, there are enough children in high school and we, being the mature women we are, just want to enjoy a nice civilized ladies night. Liz, Megan, and I are not the types to be troubled with the annoyance of crying children. We want to be free to say “adult” words at the table without some overweight mother of four giving us a go to hell look. We settle on Macaroni grill, not the best choice, but Liz has a gift card.
Our one wish is granted by the gods. We have a male server, this is important because he will flirt with us for a tip. As women, we honor prostitution of all forms, especially Megan. She was a stripper at this point in time. She is eighteen, fairly petite, and has multi faceted hair. She also has bad habits, like getting caught in possession of marijuana. So the stripping job is there to pay for her ticket. It was as if the fates brought Joel to us. Joel is our waiter, he is about six foot two, medium build, flowing brown locks, and pierced ears. Joel is twenty four, lives with his parents, and he has a misdemeanor, along with Megan. This of course makes him more attractive. Drinking and driving is such a big turn on for girls. Now if only my sarcasm wasn’t true. We honestly think Joel; his name is actually pronounced “joe-el” like a reject from Krypton or something, is hot shit.
I happen to have an insatiable thirst for blackberry mint tea; Joel manages to meet my every need. Something to keep in mind about Liz, I know I have left her out a little bit, is that she is a year older than us. Her parents are in oil, so her life is paid for. She is a catholic, vegetarian, lesbian. She pretty much leaves the flirting to me and Megan. She’s too busy talking about her music theatre career that she was going to pursue at TU this coming fall, to even notice that we we’re at a restaurant or that she is with people.
Liz and I went skiing in Santa Fe that past spring, with her father of course. This dinner was the first time I had talked to Liz in about Six months. She managed to complain throughout our entire trip. She’s not a snowboarder, she fell a lot. So I skied with her dad. I had a good time, but I hated how disrespectful she was. Her dad and I ate a lot of steak that trip. I think we really just wanted to get back at her.
If you have ever been to Macaroni Grill, then you know that they cover their tables with paper. You are also provided with crayons for your entertainment. Joel impresses us with his ability to write his name upside down and backwards. Liz is drawing a hand shaped tree. Megan is informing us of how good stripping is for your self esteem. I kind of buy into it. I don’t get much male attention at school and guys’ giving me dollar bills in exchange for a lap dance does sound like a win win situation. Megan and I had just gotten out of a semi relationship. I was attracted to her, I never figured out why. She was very inspiring. It was like watching a bird catch fire in mid air, like a firecracker, but much more tragic.
I continue flirting my way into a free desert. Joel asks me if I like chocolate, “I am female.” I reply. It’s appropriate that this man would offer an aphrodisiac to an underage girl with attachment issues. His efforts are repaid with my number.
After dinner, Liz drives us to The Center of the Universe. It’s this weird metal pillar in downtown Tulsa. It’s in between some office building and the Jazz museum. It has airplanes on it. Apparently is has something to do with WWII, we have no idea. The way it’s nestled into downtown created some kind of weird acoustic environment, there are circles made of brick in the side walk. If you stand in the middle of the circle and scream, it echoes. But only within the brick circle. It’s really weird. I’ve only been out there at night and it always gives me the same prickly feeling. I want to go home. I manage to make someone else find me attractive by liking the same shit punk music, by having a fouxhawk, and a stripper friend.
Back at the table we had given our selves titles. Megan was “Meg, the quiet one”, Liz “Liz the Brash”. I am “Leah the friendly”. We all knew I meant friendly as in “most likely to put out”. This is the turning point where I want to be experienced so I purposely make mistakes just to learn from them, or to say I did it. If I had known myself at the time I would have kicked myself in the shin. You gain experience with age, not by fucking up for the points.
Joel would text me later. I wouldn’t end up sleeping with him until July. As it turns out I ended up spending a lot of time in my own center of the universe. I screamed, and screamed but no one ever looked. I ended up having to look for myself. Megan quit stripping. Liz dropped out of two different schools. Joel moved to Hawaii. I ended up sleeping my way into depression. I got the experience I desired. I would still go back and kick myself. It still wouldn’t have changed anything. I would have just had a bruised shin.
This was writen in response to an assignment for my comp II class.
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