Lipstick

I stormed out in a rage, fury building up inside of me and coming out in spurts, executed in disbelieving gasps and clenched fists and hard strides as I walked away from the bar.
I had gone at the last minute with a girlfriend. Daniel had called at about six, informing me that he had to spend yet another late night at the office, and that I shouldn't wait up. I was just about to make some tea and pull out my Friends DVDs when Sofia called, asking if I wanted to meet her and some of her work friends at a bar called Mo's in the city. While curling up on the couch with. Mug of hibiscus lychee and 90's sitcoms is a novelty that most people relish in when given the opportunity, since Dan had started working so many late nights, it had become a regular occurrence. And I was bored.
So, I said yes. I put on some skinnies and my favorite top, even a little lipstick. I hadn't gotten dolled up for an evening out in a long time. It felt nice to wear something other than yoga pants and High School track hoodies in the evening. Even If its not lingerie.
But I wasn't ready to embrace that yet.
I thought about texting Dan to tell him that I was going out, figured it might be a good idea to report it to him. But I decided not to; he's probably pretty busy with his late night, and besides that, I'll be getting him before he does. I settled for leaving a note on the kitchen counter, just in case he got off earlier than usual.
So I met Sofia and three of her squirrelly co workers, all drinking little cocktails with fruit floating at the top. I could already tell that the night would be less than desirable if I was going to be stuck with these pansies who couldn't even handle a beer. I got a bud light and let the pounding bass and the electric lights and the essence of the atmosphere sink in as I half listened to their conversation. They were discussing a "OMG HOTTE" new co worker. I was wallowing in my beer, feeling left out, and regretting coming.
Right as I was about to pull out a textbook excuse (I work the morning shift tomorrow, my stomach kills, wanna see my baby tonight- all lies, but take you're pick, they all work) Sofia strikes up some small talk with me. How's your new apartment? How's work? How's Daniel? So is I smiles and answered all her questions, a more natural conversation started, another beer was ordered, and any thought of excusing myself from a night out was forgotten. I was having a good time.
After awhile, I excused myself to go use the Ladies Room. As I was making my way to the back of the bar, I notice a jacket that looks just like Dan's draped over the back of a chair; fitted black leather. I had just gotten it for him for his birthday last month. Weird- I didn't think many guys liked fitted jackets. But at that table was a blonde woman applying red lipstick through the reflection of a small compact, the effects of her positioning practically forcing her breasts out of her low cut black dress. Those jackets must be more popular than I thought, because it couldn't possibly be Dan's. I pulled at the neckline of my top as I walked into the Ladies Room.
I was just putting my own tube "dusty rose" lipstick back into my purse as I walked back into the atmosphere, and the first thing I saw was those red lips, moving hypnotically as she spoke to the man sitting before her. She looked up at him through her dark lashes. This earned her a kiss. A couple of kisses. Her partner then turned around to retrieve his fabulous jacket.
The one that I just got him, for his birthday.
He had a little smudge of red on the corner of his mouth. Oh, a bit behind his ear, too.
Hot.
Way to go, Dan. Daniel.
I was enraged. So much, in fact, that I didn't even know what to do. That hardly ever happens to me. Naturally, my first instinct was to be violent. But that would mean a fight, and I was not about to get into a bar fight. Because that's pathetic, and pathetic is something that I am not. No, instead, I just left.
I left in a fit of disbelieving gasps and clenched fists and long strides, gripping the railway as i walked down the stairs to the parking lo, willing myself to just be the bigger person, make it home, get my stuff, and leave. Maybe include the name of the bar I went to in my note to him on the kitchen counter that he just might get the hint as to why I was gone, all the while swearing under my breath because WHERE THE HELL ARE MY KEYS?
Just as I fish them out of the bottom of my purse, I catch another bit of red out of corner of my... Eye. Ha. It's his car.
So I scratched my name into the passenger side door. My full name. Eleanore Maria Anderson, because that's what he liked to call me when he was feeling romantic.
Passenger side door, you ask? That way she'll see it, and ask about it. And if we're lucky, he will be so stumped that he will end up telling the truth. That should be refreshing for him.


Punishment words: report, fight, railway