Rosie's Diary

Why?

"Surprise! AAAHHHHHHHHH!," Paige shouts. I smile and hug them both despite the fact that my mind is vomiting, screaming and laughing hysterically all at the same time.

Turns out Paige's uncle told her she could bring a friend and so the two of them plotted a summer vacation/birthday surprise visit. The second I see them my walls go up. My NY life is standing in my LA life's kitchen.

An hour later and we're knee deep in Chinese food, whiskey sours and beer. Paige and Boss are 2 peas in a pod, meanwhile June and Dee have discovered their mutual love for the TV show CSI. They chat away while I perform an emergency heart bypass on myself. The two of them. Talking. To each other. I'm dreaming. I'm having a nightmare. I'm tipsy. I can't settle down and relax. I hadn't spoken to June since I left school for the summer.

Around 9 everyone is rowdy. Dee has Paige and June cancel their hotel room, telling them they can stay as long as they want. I didn't think it was possible, but I fall in love with Dee even more. And when she demands everyone drink a precautionary glass of water before heading out I almost propose to her right there in front of June.

Even Boss is the perfect gentlewoman/stylist. She brings all the bags upstairs, sets up the sleeper sofa so that when we get back everyone can crash without trouble AND gives me a quick lip gloss and pinched cheek touch up. Paige says I look "fucking hot" and that she loves my *NSYNC vibe. I can't tell which one of the statements June's "hell yeah" agrees with. Oh and did I mention Boss is wearing a tight short black dress and heels with her hair down? It's impressive and I am in shock for a few minutes. Who knew she could transform herself into such a classic look?

For our night out I chose a bar on Santa Monica with a brick kinda lounge in the back. The place is packed, but I had already reserved a section for us. The waitress brings us a round of birthday shots and everyone raises their glasses and toasts me twenty-one. It's fucking perfect . . . except all I can think about is Mama.

It takes 45 minutes for me to go from happily drunk, to shitfaced-blitzed-downer-happy-crazy-asshole. I'm standing there with Paige, Dee, Boss and June; and I'm drunk and we are all screaming to be heard over the noise and. . . it feels like no one can see me. I get louder and drunker and louder and sadder and I am a mess of wanting to be seen and loved. I want to be right there with my friends. I want to be at home with both my parents. I want June. I want too much all at once. And even though everyone else is getting drunk, I am always one drunk step ahead. When I stumble away for my third bathroom break, Dee follows.

"What the fuck?" she asks and I assume someone in the bar pissed her off.

"What happened?"

"You tell me!" she demands. "Why are you all over me?"

And OK, I was arm in arm with her a little bit and I did put my head on her shoulder for a second, and I might have kissed her cheek a few times and given her a hug, maybe twice, but I didn't think it was a lot!

She's pissed—or I should say concerned, because I keep apologizing and she keeps repeating she isn't mad, she's only trying to figure out what's going on. I tell her nothing is going on and I am sorry, but she half shouts at me to stop apologizing and storms out. Worried as fuck, I pee and reluctantly go back to the group. Dee is now hanging onto Boss, chatting away with June as if nothing happened.

"Paige!" I shout.

"Rosie!" she answers.

"Let's get a shot!"

"Hell yeah," she squeals and we go for it. But as soon as I take the shot, it comes back up. And I am totally able to get to the bathroom, but it's obvious I am throwing up in my mouth. When I finish losing my cookies in the bathroom sink I stand up to find Boss behind me with napkins and a giant glass of water.

"Slow your roll, chica."

I take the water from her. "Do I look completely fucked up?"

"Yeah. But here." She picks at my hair with her fingers and then grabs a tissue to address my eyes. "Maybe you should drink some coffee. I'll check at the bar." She pulls out her lip gloss.

"But I threw up. I don't wanna contaminate you're shit."

"It's cool," she says applying it on my lips. "Keep it." She slides the gloss into the pocket of my pants (well, her pants). "I'll get you some coffee. You want sugar in it?"

"A ton, yeah. And thank you."

"I got you, girl," she says and is gone.

I finish the glass of water, throw it up and fill the glass again with water from the sink. I am able to keep that one down. I reapply gloss, check my hair again and emerge ten minutes later, ashamed. I would have paid everyone a million donuts each to let me slip back into the conversation but it didn't happen. I tell them I'm fine and I haven't partied hard in long time. My NY life believes it because they haven't seen me all summer, but my LA life looks at me like the liar I am.

I don't order another drink and am relieved when a drunk girl in a booth gets on the table and starts rapping. My indiscretions melt away and we spend another half hour watching this girl and her friends take us down hip-hop memory lane.

At 11:45 Paige drunkenly yells over the noise, "Let's go to a lesbian bar!"

Boss shouts, "We are at a lesbian bar!" and Paige answers,

"Let's go to a better lesbian bar!"

Then June says, "There's a lesbian club somewhere on Santa Monica that has dancing."

The alcohol makes me say, "Why do you know that?"

June answers with a slight slur, "Because I looked it up."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Because I looked it up."

"Why?"

"Let's get Rosie laid tonight!" Paige howls, interrupting my drunken exchange with June.

"Let's get Paige laid tonight," I sing back.

10 dollars and 10 minutes later we find June's lesbian club. Up and down, side-to-side, pop and thrust, we dance under the pulsing darklights and everything that matters melts away. June and I dance together for about 20 seconds, during which, I grab her around the waist, pull her close and shoulder shimmy my face into her cleavage. It's more a dance move than a planned out action and it's quick, but I feel silly after doing it and force myself to dance on the other side of our group. Dancing with Paige and Boss proves to be a lot less stressful and fun. We synchronize moves, action/reaction moves, and bust out into solos. Two hours of my life blink by. When the house lights come up and reveal the slick, throbbing paradise of sound and lights for what it is — a dirty, dirty, fucking dirty, trashed warehouse— I am extremely disappointed.

"Let's go to breakfast!" I say.

"Our place has food, let's go home, keep the party going," Boss answers.

It sounds like a terrible idea, but I smile, stumble a little bit, and follow.

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More to come...

To all my fellow lezzies, gays, queers, pans, aces, transqueens, kings & everyone in between. I see you. <3

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Rosie's Diary. Copyright © 2013 Jai//Em

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