Three Girls

I just found this on an old flash drive; I wrote it about four years ago. It's not that terrific, but oh does it bring back memories!

Once upon a time, three girls sat in a bar talking about guys.

It was another Sunday night at Poor Pauls for Sarah, Shannon, and I. There was something nice about having a place to go every week, even if it was as small, smokey and cramped as Poor Pauls was. We grabbed our pitcher and peanuts and sat down in a booth close to the jukebox. “Don’t Stop Believing” was playing and the song turned into a sing-a-long, complete with fists pumping in the air to put emphasis on the chorus.

The three of us found ourselves single again, with no immediate prospects. In a college town there were only so many options. While cracking open our peanuts and sipping somewhat flat beer, we discussed the intricacies of holding a relationship. Our sentences tripped over one another, each more important, or unimportant, than the next.

“They just don’t know what they want most of the time,” Sarah stated. After being out of a relationship for a while, she was ready to pursue another. However rather than dating for the rush and excitement, Sarah dated for love. It was something that not many people did anymore, as if it went out of style. The ideal, the perfect relationship, seemed almost unobtainable to most, but Sarah kept her head up. She refused to settle, and thus didn’t date often.

“Or they’re too stupid to see that what they want is right in front of them.” I, too, was an optimist, but I feared never finding what I wanted. I had a tendency to fall for my friends, which I learned on multiple occasions was a bad idea. [Ed. note: Okay it's not a bad idea anymore.]

“Just screw them. Who needs them?” Shannon had a way with words. Always with a sarcastic and careless exterior, I knew deep down she, like both of us, wanted the ideal ending. She had recently gotten out of a long distance three year relationship that ended when she found out that he was cheating on her. It made her more cynical and more opposed to relationships in general.

“Yeah!” I yelled out, giving her a high five while laughing.

“Why can’t the perfect guy just walk into class one day? Or even this bar. Right now. I mean, he doesn’t have to be gorgeous, but that naturally helps,” Sarah pondered.

“Because that’s too easy,” I proclaimed, unshelling another peanut.

“There's no perfect guy.” Shannon added. She was right, too, I thought, as I nodded in agreement. There isn’t one guy that personifies our idea of perfection. It’s not that simple. Perfection is just a state of mind. And perfect relationships are just as alien.

“I bet you thought Paul was perfect at the time.” Sarah liked to persuade Shannon into talking about Paul. It reminded Shannon that she did, in fact, like dating and shouldn’t swear off guys completely. Shannon, however, likened Paul to that of high school prom—it was an awful affair that you’d never go back to, but it left some interesting stories to share.

“Paul was a bastard. He was far from perfect. We fought all the time. I still don't know why we dated for so long.” I sipped my beer and looked at Shannon. She always looked a little down when talking about the affair and I hated seeing that. The song changed to the nineties hit, “Virtual Insanity” and everyone continued playing pool, throwing darts, and talking. Someone across the bar tried moon walking while drunk as his friends cheered him on.

Sarah nudged Shannon and said with a smile, “Sometimes the happiest relationships are the angriest.”

Laughing, I looked at Sarah, “If you of all people think that, we’re doomed.”

We continued talking and continued laughing all through the night, never coming up with a solution. We might have been doomed, but at least we had one another to be doomed with.