October 10, 2005

Barrymore Theatre Presents: Sleater Kinney, with opening act The Ponys

So it was nice and all, for you to offer to take us to the concert; what wasn’t so nice and all was that you kept with us at the concert. I thought you just hopped out of your car to share a smoke with us, but my eye cocked when you took out your Parliments, your lighter, and the fourteen fifty. And then when your ticket came, you were always the fulcrum, always butting between the middle of me and my date for the concert.

You went on about the most banal things and seemed to almost actively ignore me and deny me my place in the conversation.

That time when he leaned in, his lips grazing your ear and said "this song rocks" that should have been me and that time when he made a little face at you, then did a little eighties dance jig thing, that should have been my face and when you borrowed his hoodie when we went outside for a collective smoke it should have been me whom he gallantly offered his sweatshirt, it should have been mine and when you offered to take him out to the bars after dropping me off, I should have said something. I was going to the bars, anyway. I could have tagged along.

Stupid bitch.

Of course, there does exist the very possible possibility that he wanted someone else there to buffer the night, since he made it clear that I like him more than he likes me.

However, I'm still choosing to blame the interloper.

Fuck I’m a frustrated man of action
he should have gone with me
Fuck I’m a frustrated man of action
he should have gone home with me
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.