A Typical 20-Something’s Night Spent Alone

Never taking your eyes off of your computer, you bite your fingernails harder as the ticking of the clock grows more insistent by the second. Now you watch, mesmerized, as the short hand finally hits 5:00. You breathe out. Finally. Time to go home.

The train drops you off at the nearest stop to your apartment. You grab your bag and sprint, not regarding the number of eyebrows that have just shot up seeing you like this. You flail your arms about, huffing and puffing until you can see your dimly lit lamp outside. You breathe out. Finally. Home.

You strip down, throwing your leggings and cardigan on your unmade bed. As you slip into your warmest set of pajamas, you open up your laptop.

Fuck, how the hell did Jenny get engaged before I did? ‘like’.

HOW DOES ANNA HAVE ABS LIKE THOSE?! Whatever, they are probably photoshopped. ‘like’.

He has a new girlfriend….shitshitshit. ‘like’.

You get out of Instagram and turn on something upbeat. Anything to make you forget that people are out there finding the love of their lives, and getting abs and getting new girlfriends. Any song to remind you that you aren’t alone. Except you are alone.

You walk to the refrigerator with the kind of purpose a mediocre white man has when he walks towards his first date. Popping open the coldest bottle of wine, you carry the whole bottle to your bed, completely forgetting about your leftovers from yesterday.

Who needs glasses anyway, you think as you take a swig. You breathe out. Finally.

You light your vanilla candle, the one your best friend gave you from Bath & Body Works that smells like middle school and memories. It’s 7 pm. You’re already half drunk and exhausted. It’s only Monday.

You tell yourself it’s been a long day. You deserve this wine. You deserve to not work late today. You deserve to relax. You open up Tinder, half dreading it, and half looking forward to it.

Bleh, he looks like my uncle.

Nope, he kills deer. And takes pictures with it. 

Andddd that’s my ex.

Oh, he’s kinda cute. *swipes right*.

It’s a match!

Of course it’s a match…

The door to your apartment bangs shut. Your roommates home. ‘Hey’, you shout out halfheartedly. No response.

You crawl under the covers, the only light brightening up your room is the flash of your phone. You talk to Andrew who has the personality of white bread. You text back Michelle. You miss her. You reply back to Joe, yet another dude who loves sports.

Closing your eyes you remember the days where you didn’t need a phone to feel like a person. You remember the times where you didn’t need Tinder to feel like you were an active ‘dating’ member of society. You remember the days where you didn’t need any of this to feel whole.

You take another swig of wine.

You remember the times where you didn’t need wine to feel something. The times where you didn’t need anything to be happy. Except for him.

Him.

You breathe out. Finally. Lights off.