I'm all shook up

Dear Diary,

When I’m talking to a guy I like, the first thoughts that race through my head are “Do I sound completely stupid? Is there anything in my teeth? Does my smile give me a double chin? Do I look nice today?”. I second-guess everything that I do. I regret everything that I say. I want to go home and crawl into a ball and eat ice cream. I think it’s this way for a lot of people. When you walk through a crowd, it’s like walking through a giant cloud of self-doubt and and this passionate desire for acceptance. And then Xavier Beckingham weaves his way through that crowd with some idiotic girl or guy on his arm and all he’s thinking is “Fuck you. You’re lucky to have me.”

“What are you thinking about?” I hear in my ear.

“What?!” I shout above the blaring music and twirl around. Xavier was scanning through the crowd. He looked down at me and smiled. Why did I let him drag me to this stupid concert? He repeated the question and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer. Oh yea, that’s why

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Do you know who’s playing here tonight?”

“No clue,” he said.

“Then why did we come?,” I asked, already annoyed.

“Because the girl who handed me the flyer had DFL,” he shrugged. I looked up at him and saw that he was looking at some guy who was staring straight back at him, despite the girl hanging off his arm. That poor girl and I should make a fucking coalition.

“DFL?” I asked, regretting it as soon as the letters left my mouth.

“Dick fondling lips.”

Lovely.

“Hey!” I heard behind me. It was the slur of a girl who had had far too much to drink. The slur of a girl who would probably end up slapping Xavier for some time he slept with her four months ago. She’d yell at him about how she “thought he wasn’t one of those guys” and later, Xavier would laugh and tell me that the slap was totally worth the sex. This is what I wanted to witness tonight.

“You’re that guy I met in London,” drunk girl behind us continued. Suddenly, this drunk girl threw her arms around Xavier and I saw her face for the first time. It was Melissa Landen, who played Kelly on EastEnders, who Xavier slept with on a bet with me. This was the motherfucking twilight zone.

“Melissa” Xavier said, unwrapping his arms from me.

“You were good in bed,” Melissa blurted out, like it was the most normal thing to say after casual “hello”s. The guy beside her (her date, I presume) blushed crimson red. For a second, I wondered if it was because he recognized this fact first hand, but that was too cynical for my tastes.

“I know,” Xavier nodded.

“Did you come here to see my brother?” Melissa asked, composing herself temporarily.

“You have a brother?” Xavier asked, playing dumb. Of course, Melissa had a brother. Like I didn’t hear about how Xavier slept with him for the entire week afterwards.

“Peter, yea,” she giggled. “He’s such a blockhead. I don’t know why Sarah is marrying him at all. She could do so much better!”

“Sarah?” Xavier asked, this time genuinely ignorant of what Drunk Girl, aka Melissa, was referring to.

“Don’t you read Rolling Stones?” she exclaimed, far too loudly for my taste. “They’re like... the hot new couple. Just got engaged. It’s everywhere.”

“And he’s playing here today?” Xavier inquired. I didn’t like the look on his face. It was his scheming look.

“You want to go backstage after the show?” she asked, biting her lip “sexily”. Gag me with a spoon.

“Or we could just go backstage now,” he shrugged. “We could occupy ourselves to the end of the show.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic!” she yelled, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the crowd. I shrugged empathetically at her date, who stood there bewildered.

The lights went down and the concert started. Peter Landen’s band, Sunny Day Real Estate, was pretty amazing. He’s cute, too, and I did recognize him from magazines.

After the show, I used my feminine wiles (ie boobs) to get backstage and get Xavier before he did something stupid, like out the poor bastard in front of everyone.

I stumbled around backstage and looked around for Xavier. I saw him in the corner, talking to Peter. Xavier was basically radiating sex, while Peter didn’t seem as interested. I saw him say a few words and walk off, leaving Xavier standing there, bewildered.

“Didn’t remember you?” I asked, walking up to where Xavier was frozen.

“No,” he seethed. “He just turned me down.”

“We all strike out sometimes,” I shrugged. Of course, I wouldn’t know. Chasing boys isn’t exactly my style.

“This isn’t over,” Xavier hissed. “Not even a little bit.”

“Can it be over for tonight?”

Xavier shrugged and followed me as I dragged him out of there. I understand that this has to be a critical blow to his ego. Is it bad that I love it? Well, stay tuned. I’m sure Xavier will do something totally idiotic/brilliant and keep the rumor mill running.