Fucking paper straws

Chapter 1

“Here come the aiiirplaiiine…”

“Stop it, damn it!” Your hand waves wildly in front of your face as you try to fend off the fork with the cake flying towards you. “Asshole.” But you still have to grin. This is mainly because of your best friend who is really trying everything to cheer you up today.

“See? You can laugh after all?”

“Only until you poke my eye out,” you try to complain, but only half manage it. Alistair is really good when he takes the risk. “What’s that all about?” Your best friend grins and sips his Starbucks coffee. With the paper straw in his mouth, he looks at you triumphantly.

“You just need to get out and socialize again,” he says, looking appraisingly at the straw. “The plastic cup, the plastic lid, and the straw rotting away in your mouth. What a load of crap.”

“Right.” He’s right about the straw. And Alistair is right about the other one too. You really need to get out again. But you don’t want to admit that.

“What am I right about?” He asks, knowing full well that he’s right about everything.

“The straw,” you grumble.

“Aaaand?” You roll your eyes. He really means well, but has chosen a difficult task.

“Nothing else. I like Starbucks like everyone else, but otherwise I just want to be at home and play games. A new game has come out and I really need to…”

“Now shut up,” Alistair calls out loudly across the room. It’s lunchtime and your local Starbucks is busy. “Work and games for three months. Dude.” His face takes on that expression again. Alistair manages to appear serious and nice at the same time. “What you need is not a game and your job sucks anyway.”

“Thanks,” you grumble. “That’s exactly what I needed.”

“What you really need is to be around people. Company. Laughing together and all the stuff you used to love doing.” Of course your best buddy ignores you and of course he’s right.

“But it used to be different.” Now you sound like a whining child.

“She’s just a girl, dude,” Alistair groans. “Yeah, sure, she was the world for you. But there are others out there.” You quickly put your own cardboard straw in your mouth and suck on your coffee before you can say something instinctive. Your buddy waits patiently until you’re finished. He’s said everything and now it’s your turn.

“It’s not about Nicolle,” you say, drawn out and annoyed. "I thought she was the one, of course. But she isn't. And after what she did to me, I don't care." You look at Alistair. "For real."

"Okay. I believe you," nods your friend, who stayed loyal to you even when Nicole wanted to have you all to herself. At least until you discovered your own values ​​and found out that love can be not only easy and beautiful but also difficult and destructive.

"I just really don't want to get hurt anymore." You quickly raise your hand as Alistair opens his mouth. "And yes, I know that's a risk I have to take." Another sip of overpriced coffee. With his good job, Alistair can afford that. You, on the other hand... try to tackle one problem after the other. "It was stupid to think women wanted me because of my personality."

"True," says your friend, sounding sympathetic but honest. You prefer to ignore his words, otherwise your heart will start to hurt again.

“It’s time to focus on myself. My life, my body, my mental health.” Alistair nods.

"That's a good plan." You wait, but he doesn't say anything else. Alistair is so much further along in life than you are, even if you're the same age. He's fit, intelligent, independent, good-looking and has a natural charm that makes it seem like he doesn't give a shit about anyone who thinks differently about him. You can really be lucky to have him as a friend.

But sometimes it gets annoying. Especially in those moments when he's right (which is actually always the case) and when you know that you have to change (which is also always the case, as long as you don't suppress those thoughts).

"Thank you, Ethan," you whisper in a fake high voice. "You really are a good friend and I respect you." A pathetic attempt to gain the upper hand over something that doesn't exist, your good life.

"I respect you, Ethan," Alistair says completely neutrally and looks you straight in the eyes. "And I will never lie to you. Best friends don't do that. You're sad, scared and ugly and nobody likes you except me." You just look at your best friend and say nothing. Of course he's right. "Girls aren't interested in you because you have no personality, because you're scared and because you let yourself be pushed around." And of course he carries on. But he also knows how far he can go and keeps his mouth shut. One more comment about your gaming obsession and it would have been a disaster. "And it's not your fault. Well, not most things. Finding the love of your life only to find out that she's not what you hoped she would be, that destroys you."

"Mhm," you just say.

"But Ethan, Nicolle was a stupid cunt. She wasn't right for you and just because she got married again doesn't mean you have to wait for her. For the third time." He drinks his coffee again and looks at you. But again he manages to narrowly avoid the cliff and only seems concerned when he tortures you with your weaknesses. "Shit bro, I know you're funny, charming and nice. And I also saw that you can be manly if you want to. That was Nicolle's fault. She made you who you are now, okay, I admit that. But now it's up to you to change."

A long silence falls, at least between you, while the Starbucks is full of people and hustle and bustle. Orders are called out, conversations are held, and you sit here, sad and depressed, letting your best bro give you a pep talk.

"Shit," you mutter and shake your head. "I guess this new life thing is harder than it seems." Alistair waits. "But you're right. Shit. Okay." You nod your head. "I'll do it."

"Good," your boddy grins. "Very good." And then he claps his hands loudly. Some people turn around. Alistair has always had this open manner. "So what next?" You shrug. "Oh, come on." He looks around the room. "You can talk to that lovely lady over there now." He points behind you. You turn around and see what he pointed at.

"Shut up," you hiss, but you can't manage to turn around.

The girl in the light red summer dress looks simply incredible. Just the way she sits there, her face turned towards the windows of the Starbucks, looking outside, long dark brown hair and a slightly bored expression on her face are exactly the reasons why you don't want to have anything to do with this girl. "No way," you shake your head. "I told you..."

"And I'm telling you that you will," Alistair interrupts you, and this time he is not friendly but dead serious. "What do you want to do? A new job? A new hobby? A new apartment? All of that takes time and costs money. But there's someone sitting there and she's... shit, she's at least an 8."

"And I'm a 4."

"Fuck off!" laughs Alistair. "You're at least a... 6... 5..."

"Exactly. And that's why..."

"You're going to talk to her. Now!" Alistair hits the table with his fist, loudly. The cutlery clinks and eyes turn to you.

And you look, completely out of reflex, at the girl behind you.

She has turned her head, to the table where you're sitting... no... to you. She looks at you. Your eyes meet, she sees you... and quickly looks away. A completely normal reaction when two strangers look at each other in a restaurant. And your reaction is just as normal. You quickly turn away and turn to Alistair.

"I can't do that," you protest, making one last attempt. It's not about proving to yourself that it can't work. What you're saying is simply true. You can't do it. For the simple reason that it won't do any good.

And what if it does make a difference? What if it were possible? What if she did have feelings...

You shake your head while Alistair turns his attention away from the girl and focuses only on you.

"But you can do it."

And that's the end of the topic. Alistair doesn't leave any room for discussion and even threatens not to pay for the drinks. You have no money and the lady behind the counter doesn't look like she's interested in a discussion. So stress with the cashier or emotional pain with the 8 who is sitting there alone at the window.

You stand up... and turn to the lady at the counter.

You'll manage to make do with the money somehow.

"Hey," you greet the woman. “Pay please.”

Okay, you can’t manage to pay. Coffee has gotten damn expensive. So the only thing left is… “You’re not sitting down again,” Alistair growls and grabs your arm. Again, a few people stare and your face gets hot. “You said you’re not interested in women anymore. So prove it. Nothing bad can happen. She’ll say no, but you’ve won, either way. Either she says yes…” he shrugs. “We both know it won’t happen. Or she says no and you dared to talk to an incredibly beautiful woman. So do it or I’ll beat you to bloody shreds right here in this damn Starbucks.” Then he lets go of you.

What am I doing here? But the walk to the girl’s table is too short to find the answer to your panicked question. Your legs feel numb and heavy. Your hands are tingling and you’re sure you’re going to have a stroke or something. You know it’s going to hurt you. You know she'll say no. But that's not the worst thing.

Because you know you could have feelings for this girl. Not because she... Not just because she looks incredibly beautiful... There's something about her that you really like. You can't say it, but the way she moves.

You should think of a plan.

Too late. You've admired her for too long and now you're standing right in front of her.

And she sees you.

Your heart is about to explode. Your eyes meet. Her gaze meets yours. She has such a beautiful face. Her eyes widen a little, brown and deep. Her mouth opens a bit and small wrinkles form on her forehead.

…

…

And she looks away.

She turns her head away, back to the glass pane, looking outside and...

Her hair falls in front of her face and shields her from you... Just like her hand that lies on the side of her face and prevents you from seeing her eyes.

Her body tenses uncomfortably and a slight tremor runs through her body.

You've lost. Again. You should turn around and...

"Hey."

What the hell are you doing? You stupid asshole! Run away! She doesn't want you!

"Sorry to bother you."

No! What the actual fuck you bloody moooron!

Only now do you realize what you're doing. You're probably less than ten seconds away from a pepper spray attack of biblical proportions.

Save yourself! Run away!

"Do you know where the restroom is?“

Aaaaargh! Fucking shit fucker you fucking idiot!

At least you don't want to go down without a fight.

But the girl just squeaks and hunches her shoulders while her body remains rigidly directed towards the window outside.

No chance.

And now you have to go to the toilet even though you don't have to.

At least enough time to look at yourself in the halfway clean mirror and rethink your life.

Are you mad at Alistair? You feel the pain. It's not the rejection. It's the hope that is disappointed time and time again. The hope that you could have a good life, a life that you can share with someone. The hope that you can be there for someone. The hope that you are enough for someone. Or simply the hope that someone sees that you want to improve.

But no. Alistair is right.

"Fuck," you grumble and give the mirror your most honest smile in recent times. It's better to fight and lose than not to fight at all.

Although it doesn't feel like that to you.

"Maybe someday. Don't give up hope."

You wait a few more minutes. Another man appears in the bathroom, does his business and washes his hands next to you. After he has dried himself off, your eyes meet in the mirror.

"Cool man," he says and nods at you. That's all, then he leaves. You wait a little longer, then you follow suit.

"What was that?" Alistar asks, dumbfounded, as you sit down again. "Shortly after you left, she ran off as if **** was after her."

"Yes," you say and try to think of something nice. Her brown eyes, for example...

No! Not that! Her beautiful breasts? Fuck!

"What did you say to her?" But you just look at him meaningfully and Alistair just shrugs. "It doesn't matter." He puts his hand on your shoulder. "You played and lost. But I'm proud of you." He grins. "And besides, she's a lesbian."

"Yes? How do you know that?" Alistair laughs quietly, not conspicuously, now that you've done everything he wanted you to do. He knows how far he can go with you.

“So when you chased her away, she ran into her girlfriend outside and the two of them kissed passionately.”

You are ashamed as you breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t your fault. She was just a lesbian and annoyed that a boy had spoken to her. Maybe she wasn’t even afraid of you.

“Or maybe you just made her a lesbian,” grins your bro. “You’re disgusting with your outfit. I bet she was straight and when she let you go…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grin and are actually happy to be able to talk about something as normal as your outfit. “Not everyone has as much money as you.”

In fact, you both manage to make the day a little fun for you and after a while, a few stupid jokes and stupid stories between men, you actually feel a little like a man again.

“One day I’ll just burn the place down,” you hear yourself saying and feel the corners of your mouth turning up. “I’ll march in there and have the Battle of the Alamo with those stupid wankers from HR.” Alistair laughs.

“You should go into business for yourself,” he suggests. “I know your strengths.”

“In this economic climate?” You grin. “I’d rather buy myself a couple of **** rifles, some ammo and a couple of barrels of gasoline and go down in a blaze of glory.” Alistair giggles into his almost-empty cup.

“Those damn cardboard straws.” Disappointed, he lets his coffee sink into the ground, in which the straw has dissolved. “Maybe I’ll even join in.”

“You?” you ask and laugh heartily. “If someone like you can’t make it, then I don’t know what hopes I should have?”

Alistair smiles. Not really friendly, but a little surprised.

And then his expression turns into an almost evil grin.

"I don't know..." he murmurs. "There's always hope." He looks past you a little, but you're too slow to realize it. "I mean, we only have two real fantasies, right? Either one last Alamo... or..."

You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around.

Fuck!

"Hey," greets the girl from before, her face bright red and a friendly, slightly embarrassed smile.