In the Backseat

Summer 2013

Dear queer diary,

I was dating an alcoholic man that invited me to his friend's incredibly loud summer party. We had planned to arrive earlier in the evening before it got crowded. but got there after dark. People had been waiting for us. I wasn't ready for a large gathering, and I had only met this social group 1 time prior, in a quiet setting. We pulled up, parked, and he was off toward the yard of people. I said I had to get something from the car. He started to realize I was taking my time, and when he came back I told him I wasn't feeling well. I wanted to rest up in the car. He asked if I remembered his friend *R* and that she was waiting to see me. I resigned to taking a nap in the car, and advised for him to get me in an hour. Sleep wasn't happening and I could hear people talking, talking about me. Maybe 45 minutes had gone by, and I heard my name being drunkenly heralded.

“Heeeey” as the car door opened. “Are you ok?”

It was her, the friend. She slowly crept over me, with the care one takes when intoxicated, laying on top of me across the back seat, with her legs hanging out the car door. I told her I was tired.

She kissed me on the forehead, “I hope you feel better. You should come out soon. We miss you.”

I never went to the party. I drove off after the boyfriend visited with a drunk harshness that was nothing like the girl’s cute and caring inebriation.

I don't remember her real name, only her stage name.

She's a dancer and I have had the chance to see her many times since then. I haven't. Because, I don't know how I'd approach her and say, “Do you remember climbing on me in the back of a car? Can we do it again sometime?”