I’m not sure how I could live that kind of life without a loving partner. I know, I know, I don’t need a partner to have kids—but I’d like one—which means I have to date.
But datingsucks.
I groan, sinking into the couch, my head spinning from too much champagne. Squeezing my eyes shut to stop the swaying, I press my hand to my head and take a few deep breaths.
My drunken stupor has me thinking about my ex again. Even though we’ve been broken up for a while, it’s hard to know that all the plans we made won’t happen anymore. I don’t love him, but I miss building a future with someone, making those plans, and looking ahead.
Now, I’m starting over, and I don’t know where the starting point is. It’s hard putting so much time into someone, pouring love and energy into them, only for them to not return the effort.
I open the camera app on my phone and snap a few pictures, then type in my ex’s number. My inside voice is screaming at me to stop, but like I do every time, I ignore it.
The screen becomes blurry. I can’t see the number, but I upload a photo and press send.
Me:Happy birthday to me!!! I’m thriving.
Three bubbles appear and my stomach claws at me with anxiety, wondering what he’ll say. I shouldn’t have sent him anything. I already regret my choice.
Unknown Number:First, happy birthday. Second, I think you sent this to the wrong number. With how blurry that image is, I’m assuming you’re drunk. Be safe tonight and don’t drive drunk.
I gasp, horrified that I messaged the wrong person while relieved I didn’t end up sending it to my ex. It’s a birthday miracle.
Me:I am so sorry to bother you! It was an honest mistake. Thanks for being kind. Have a great night.
I blow out a breath and drop my phone on the table, cradling my head in my hands as a throb begins at my temples. I’m relieved I didn’t text him, but mortified I sent a drunk message to the wrong person.
My phone chimes again and I pick it up, surprised that the wrong number would text me back. I didn’t expect him to message me again. At least, that’s not what usually happens.
Unknown Number:It’s no bother at all. How old are you turning?
Me:26. I think I might go dance with my friends now. Is it weird that I’m already tired? Also, I’m a little drunk and want food.
Unknown Number:Haha. Who isn’t hungry when they’re drunk? 26. Wow. I remember those days. You should go have fun. You’re young. Live your life.
I listen to him, wondering why I’m sitting alone on the couch for my birthday. I head down the steps and find my friends at the edge of the dance floor. They have glow sticks, sweeping them around as they move.
“Liv!” Vic shouts, tugging me closer.
The music changes to something a little slow, but sexy. The fast movement of the crowd stops, and everyone moves their body as if they’re in slow motion. The bass is still strong, vibrating my core. I can’t hear anything other than the music and that’s all I want. The strobing lights blur together, the alcohol still affecting me. The more I dance, the worse it becomes. I lift my arms above my head, letting the music speak to me, allowing myself to let go.
And just…be.
Feeling a little too good, I take a few more pictures of me having a good time, along with a short video of me dancing. I keep my head turned so he can’t see my face. I might be a little reckless talking to this guy, but I’m not stupid. I want to keep a little mystery about myself.
Plus, it’s just for one night.
What’s so bad about that?
Me:Having the best time with the girls!!!
I debate for a second if I want to send the video. It’s only ten seconds and he can’t see me in it. It’s too dark and the lights only show that I have red hair. Other than that, he can’t see anything about me.
“Fuck it,” I slur and sway, pressing send.
“It’s my best friend’s birthday!” Amber shouts, and the people around us cheer too.
“Just scan this. Even a dollar helps our girl here!” Victoria continues her efforts to get people to send us money, and all I can do is roll my eyes.
My phone vibrates and I’m not sure why, but my heart bursts with excitement. I’m texting a stranger. I have no idea who he is, what he does, what he looks like, and I don’t care. It feels good talking to someone I don’t know. It’s like a clean slate. I get to start over with someone else.
