Love Fool

7 All by myself...not quite

Mood: Turn the heat up with Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls. It's about to get hot! 🥵

***

"Is she still looking at me?"

"Yeah."

"Big time?"

"Yeah."

"How does she look?"

"Like Barbie gone bad," Maddy replied.

"Oh." I nodded, acknowledging that Ingeborg was failing miserably in her attempt to murder me with her criminal stare.

We were at a hot and sweaty dance club, which was packed like a can of sardines. It smelled like sardines too. And maybe an old tennis shoe.

The Koala Bar was a popular hangout where college students and backpackers partied, made fast friends, danced like the world was going to end, and participated in wet t-shirt competitions (or shirtless competitions for the guys) for free jugs of beer.

The bar was decorated with an assortment of flags from different nations. A vintage photo of two handsome male lovers was pinned on the wall behind one of the bartenders. It was a beautiful portrayal of pure love.

The decorations at the club conveyed a feeling of openness, warmth, and diversity of ideas, backgrounds, choices. Everyone who came to this club felt welcome.

Our group gathered at a corner by the bar. Sven and Jonas conversed with a bunch of Norwegian and Swedish students, with beers in their hands, while Maddy and I just finished a tequila shot. The lemon didn't sit well with me.

Ingeborg and her friends were there. They were dressed to kill, with pumps, tight jeans, and tiny crop tops revealing flat and tanned stomachs. Ingeborg looked like a Victoria's Secret angel-puffy hair, overloaded eyelashes, artificially plumped lips, and glitter. Oh, she had a cowboy hat on, transforming her into Jessica Simpson in The Dukes of Hazzard.

The moment Sven, Jonas, Maddy and I walked in, Ingeborg threw daggers my way.

"There's Cyborg," Maddy commented.

"Yeah, just ignore her," I replied.

After we bought our first round of drinks, I caught a glimpse of Ingeborg sniggering with her friends, while pointing at me.

Yeah, real mature, Cyborg. Go back to preschool and grow the fuck up, I thought.

***

About fifteen minutes later, I excused myself to the bathroom.

"Mind my drink," I instructed Maddy, as I headed to the special place where nature was calling.

The women's restroom was a bottle-necked train where a party of another kind took place. I never understood how people could hog a bathroom with bad lighting to re-apply makeup and open a can of worms about their woeful tragedies that would make Ovid turn in his grave.

"He ain't worth your tears," I said to one sobbing girl, who claimed that her world was coming to an end because some guy named Simon was getting with her ex-best friend.

"You are so rude. She needs love right now," her new BFF commented.

"Honey, I'm just being honest. This guy's a douche. He doesn't deserve her. Nor does her ex-best friend." I raised my right eyebrow and they stared back. Damsel in distress then nodded, as if I was her augur who revealed an unspoken truth.

***

After coming out from the bathroom, I noticed that the club was heating up and getting wild. It was competition time and a group of guys had their shirts off, while the crowd roared. One of them was Sven, with a cowboy hat.