Corner

Darkness. Music. Strobe lights. Smoke. He shows interest. You show interest. You grind together on the dance floor. Go home together. He asks for your number, then he never calls. You call him a bastard. Every girl has been there before.

Now reverse that role.

A girl takes a boy home on Saturday night. She had been out with a group of friends and had no particular intention except to enjoy a rare night out. As girls do, they giggle and talk about boys. Banded together they play that universal game of Spot, spotting for those they deemed good looking. He was one she had noticed early on, being a tall, muscular black man wading in a pool of Taiwanese people. A few glasses of liquid courage later, she approaches a white guy at the bar for a chat. The reception was cool, so she leaves him alone. Her friend, a married lady, helps by marching them both directly to the black man and asks if He is single. He is. He hits the ground running by asking them both to dance. A smooth move indeed on his part. Girls do believe in safety in numbers, though our girl has somewhat grown out of that need. A benefit of age she likes to think. Very quickly they take to each other. It is familiar territory for them both, that dancing is a kind of foreplay.

But did she really want what was presented to her or did she simply take what was being offered? He was an excellent lover, and sweet too. In the morning He asked for her number. She asks for his instead. In polite parlance it would have been gracious to call or text that day to say she had a great time. To play the game would have been to apply the Three Day Rule. To be a bastard was to do nothing at all. She effected option three.

Why did she choose to be a bastard? Why, if she herself had been through the disappointment of not receiving an expected phone call, would now do the same to another? There were many considerations. She wasn't interested in a fling. She was interested in a meaningful relationship. She wasn't interested in making a new friend. She was interested in learning through a lifetime of friendship. There was no time either; she plans to leave the country within six months. Though handsome and considerate, he also seemed young. There wasn't a trace of arrogance or bitterness. Just smooth lines of grace and positivity, of an unfettered life, of self-created adventures and explorations. It wouldn't have worked, she keeps telling herself. There is no point, her resolve weakening. She picks up the phone. She puts it down. She picks up the phone. And considers.