Sarah Henderson

Drinking From an Empty Cup



What was the point of computers before the internet? Without it, I don’t see any point in owning a computer. It’d be like wine without alcohol, tastes nice, looks pretty, but what’s the point? I’m not a big fan of huge parties, especially the get drunk, vomit, and drink some more kind, but I can’t deny that I throughly enjoy drinking just enough to forget that my life sucks and I still have to go back in the morning. I can say the same about computers. I could pretend that I’m an eco-hippie and say that it’s totally not worth it to spend your time plugged into a giant infrastructure that only supports “the man,” but screw it, I’m addicted. One day without checking my e-mail and I’m spazzing like an addict. My mind races with all of the possibilities, what am I missing? And then you get on and there’s nothing but Border’s 40% off coupons and my subscription to this American life, makes you feel unimportant, you know? ...........



Silence.



Yeah, guess I said too much.



Maybe we should go back inside.



Good idea....want another drink?



Um, yeah, Shawn’s over there, I haven’t seen him in forever, I’ll be right back ok?



This is what 26 is like. Where I’m the only single one. A constant stream of friends of friends. Dating. Bars. Another new restaurant. One more chance to realize that my soul mate doesn’t exist and I will spend the rest of my life searching and dying just a little bit more inside. Sorry, I tend to be just a little melodramatic. Neurotic I guess. Though it’s hard not to be when every other month I’m getting yet another wedding invite. Which I have to go to alone. Again. Of course, I can always go with coffee guy Joe’s best friend’s girlfriend’s friend. Who is single, cute, and funny. Just like every friend of a friend. I guess it’s better than showing up alone. Excuse me if I don’t sound enthused. I just always thought I wouldn’t spend this much of my life alone. It’s not that I mind being alone. I really don’t. Honestly.

Ok, maybe I do a little bit. I like being alone. Reading, watching tv, jogging, these are just a few of my favorite things.... and they’re all great alone. It’s just at the end of the day, I get in bed, roll over, and there’s no one there. It’s not sex (or the lack thereof) that bothers me. But the belonging. Life should be more than just going to work, drinking it off, and doing it again in the morning. Ok, it should be clear by now that I’m a little bit of a dork. Which would explain the results of my dates. All because of a fear of fish. Not my fear, I’m not that neurotic. It was never my fear, but now I can’t get over it.

Fish just sit there. Staring at you. It’s really creepy. Yeah, Finding Nemo was cute, but think about it, they just swim around, slimy and freaky looking. And then, they stare. Even when they die, they stare. I can still remember this fish from this Chinese place. It was this giant thing that still had eyes. The whole time my dad was eating it, it was just staring at me. Dead, being eaten, and it was staring. That shouldn’t be allowed. Congress needs to act. Immediately. Again, I’m not some vegan hippie, but seriously.....food that stares at you? No way man. I mean, fish still look like fish when you’re eating them. Chicken looks like chicken, but not a chicken. Yeah, not my fear. At least, it didn’t use to be.



You don’t believe in God? How is that possible? How could you go walking around every day and not think there’s anything more to this than beer, food, sex, and sleep?



I don’t think I need to mention how that one ended.

I’m reasonably cute. I’m a little tall for my age, but apparently that’s not so much an issue when you’re out of middle school. I don’t have any cats, wear sweat pants, or even knit. Ok, maybe that last one is a lie. But only because Julia Roberts made it cool for all of five seconds. I know...that makes it worse. I’m not intelligent enough to be intimidating, not dumb enough to be appalling. Just your average mediocre person. Still in school... still have no money...still spend it on cheap bottles of wine, peanut butter and ramen. No longer get wasted every night...no longer bum money off my dad (just the government)...no longer know what I want to do when I grow up. I admit I’m a little too mediocre.

As far as I’m concerned, my most redeeming quality is that I care. My day doesn’t circle around the aforementioned beer, food, sex, and sleep (maybe I don’t get enough of any of these). I like to be nice to people. I want to be a good person. Someday.



Is that you?



Chris? Oh my God, How are you?

What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in forever, not since I left school.



I know, it’s great to see you, I’m still in school, three more years and I’ll be done. Can’t seem to get it out of my system. What about you? How are things?



Pretty good, I’m working in Wellington now, I’ve got this place right by the beach. You should come by and see it, it’s amazing. What are you doing down here anyway?



No classes this week, so I just wanted to get out of there. Shake some of it out of my head, six years is a long time.



I know what you mean. I’ve missed it though, and everyone. Listen, I’m done for the day, want to go grab coffee or something?



Um, I’ve got this thing...I should get going, but you know, call me sometime. Next time, we’ll go out, definitely.



So it was me. That time at least. Well, maybe more than that. I said I was normal. Maybe I lied. I just can’t shake it. It’s like those fish eyes staring. They don’t stop. They don’t leave. I don’t know how to get it out. Not even a friend of a friend. But a real friend. Maybe it’s just an excuse that they all end badly.

At least it’s funny. Nothing entertains my friends more than one of my dates. They aren’t even that bad. Not like the movies or anything. I’ve never done anything SNL bad. Just one small disaster after another. Nothing to cry over. Just spilled wine, a couple ill passes, and the constant stream of babble that spills out of my mouth. Usually when someone compares you to an actress it’s a good thing. I get compared to Elliot. You know, from Scrubs. The overly neurotic one. I guess that would explain why my non-sweatpant wearing, non-cat owning, non-knitting personality doesn’t get me very far.

Seriously though, if anyone is interested based on those points alone, you’ve got problems. Like see a therapist problems....

And this is why I have bad dates.



No, I’m not going to sleep with you.



Why not?



Many reasons. I barely know you, I don’t do things like that, and I’m going home. It’s a much longer list, but I’ll leave it at that.



Why? You know you want to.



Yeah, um, you know, I have this friend who’d do it, want her number?



Seriously?



Yup.



Yeah.



Every time I meet someone new, it’s the same thing. They can be perfectly nice, perfectly cute, perfectly nasty, perfectly mean. Take your pick. I react the same way. It’s like I want to ask them, are you afraid of fish? Of course, they never are. I mean, who in the world is afraid of fish? Well, aside from me... and...never mind that. It’s a stupid question.



So how was your date?



Eh....he was a douche. He took one look at me and was like, I have a bed...it’s clean...want to?



You’re too picky. So what did you do, leave early? Poor guy.



Shut up.



You did, you’re such a tease, no wonder no one can stand you for more than 5 minutes.



I gave him Melissa’s number.



Shut up.



I mean...I feel bad about it. Sort of.



Well did they?



Yeah....



You’re an ass.



I know.



He’s not coming back.....



I know.



I’m going to tell you this once...just because you’re my friend and I love you....No one can stop death....Get over it and get over yourself....Everyone’s sick of you.



I know.



Six years is apparently a long time.

They tell me it’s long enough to get over fears...especially acquired fears....and most especially acquired inane fears.

We’ll see.