I'm fucked up. But I'm also Michael Kelley O'Neill, so I like to think that that is a solid excuse as to why I'm a terrible person. But at the age of twenty-three, They say you shouldn't make excuses for yourself. So this is how I find myself, standing here in a club, after getting dumped and slapped by my now ex-girlfriend. Now that may seem like I am the innocent one here, but in all fairness I had been cheating on her for the past three months
"No, Kate, Please babe"
But she was gone.
I was left there, standing with Margo, one of my best friends, all she could say was
"I'm sorry"
I didn't reply, just walked away as she ran after Kate. I left the club, and got in Camero, ready to drive home. I had been drinking While I was at the club, but as slap I as sobering as a bucket of Ice cold water.
I pulled out a pack of cigarettes from my glove box. I hadn't smoked since high school, but right now, I needed something to take my mind off of my current situation I lit it with a lighter that I'd had since I was a junior.
I inhaled largely, until I started choking. I hate smoking. I peeled off, out of the parking lot, noon the street until I was on the highway. I decided I was going to grab my Friend Spencer.
When I got there, he was blasting rap music through his surround sound. The first words out of my mouth were,
"she found out."
The tone of my voice resonated with lack of feeling. As if Novocain were pumping in my veins.
"Oh shit" Was all that Spencer could manage. "But you still have Jen, don't you?"
I said to him, "You know how, as a kid, you would have a toy. When you get it, It's the most special thing in the world, but after you play with it for so long, you kinda forget about it. Then you see another toy, and it absorbs all of your attention. But one day, you might want the old toy, and go looking for it, but it's not there. And you realize how much you fucked up."
"That made no fucking sense." spencer said, with a confused look on his face.
I was so frustrated, so crushed, I turned around and lashed out, sending my fist flying through the wall. My hand came back bloody, small cuts all over the skin. Without a word, I turned to leave, but realized what I had done, so I pulled out my wallet and left a fifty dollar bill on the table next to me hoping it would cover the repair. I walked out of the door.
The next morning I wake with a pounding headache, which, between the drinking and the slap, proved to be excruciating. I passed the hours sipping on strong black coffee and watching Top Gun on Netflix. By the end of the movie, It was about one o'clock in the afternoon. I weren't to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I'm about six feet and two inches, unkempt eye length hair that was pushed up and over to the side, held up by gel. I also a have "I haven't left the house today" five o'clock shadow. It was time to get cleaned up.
I went to my walk in closet and pulled out blue seersucker shorts and a dark navy polo shirt with matching seersucker collar. I slipped on my light brown leather boat shoes, and set off to my personal barber. As I strolled in, my gorgeous hair dresser, Jane, sat me down.
"How would you like it today?" She asked, pensively toying with my hair.
"You know what, It's in your hands, make me look good" I replied. I trusted this woman with my life. When I amerced, I was clean shaven, massaged, shampooed.Most Importantly, I had a very short fade to the top of my head, where the rest of the hair was still quite long, but gelled back. I look like an up and coming soccer coach. But a damn good looking one. After this, I shoot spencer a text, telling him I was on my way to pick him up.
When I arrived, he was pissed about the wall, but went with me none the less. When we arrived at a tailor, he was confused.
"What are we doing here?" Spencer asked ponderously.
"we're getting you a suit, and I'm picking up one I ordered a few weeks ago." I replied putting the camera in park.
When we emerged, we both had black bags containing our tailored suits.
"Tonight, we're going to the nicest club in L.A. The Villa Lounge. And we're both bringing back girls. So I'm going to drop you off at your house, grab your car, and meet at my house in two hours."
This allotted time was to go to my storage lock up. Now let me explain. I went to Law school, And I have quite a bit of money, even at such a young age. When I arrived, I went to my lock up, number 357, and unlocked it with my finger print. As the garage door Hydraulically opened it revealed a souped up glossy graphite 2015 Corvette Stingray. Tonight was the night. I drove home in the stingray, barely dipping below 60 M.P.H. the entire way home.
When I got home, I suited up, perfected my hair, sprayed cologne, and put on my dark navy suit with light blue striped dress shirt with a plain white collar and a navy tie. I decided to wear brown leather penny loafers. I also put on my black rolex with with gold accents. It was time to find a girl.
