Embarrassment and Trauma

Wednesday night was my first night out in a long time.
i blame it on all my broke friends, who haven't been asking me out since no one has money.
i, on the other hand, have money.
this concept called saving seems to be something majority of people can't grasp in the UK.
it was my friend's birthday after all, so that was my excuse to eschew the work i had planned so well to do that night.
down at C103, i discovered a 3rd room. the rock room.
at first glance, it looked pretty calm and surreal, hardly anyone on the dancefloor.
by midnight, there were people shoving people into other people.
people carrying people, on people's necks.
people dancing in a red-indian fashion to the chang of each guitar chord.
me? i was standing up against a wall, bopping my head to each rock song.
finally i've found a genre of music i veritably can't dance to.
ever tried dancing to rock music?
it was bizarre how you'd look out of place if you actually danced properly/nicely.
people that didn't know how to dance looked cool dammit!
more ghastly the better.

what didn't help was the RnB room. (what i thought was my strongest suit)
as hard as i tried to shake my booty, i was nothing compared to the cluster of breakdancers i was with.
they weren't even breakdancing and they were still better than me.
the first time i've wanted to get off the dancefloor asap in a club.
and bumping into people in clubs somehow makes you feel a little more celebrity like.
donchu find?

on the way home, with simon (an adept "break"er)
a random guy along the street came out of no where.
"i'm sorry but i really have to tell you how pretty i think you look."
my heart started to melt and totally evaporated when he kissed my hand gently.
as he went on complimenting me, i was so flattered and my thank-yous didn't seem enough.
drunk as he probably was, he said it with such sincerity, i actually believed him.
it was almost like i'd paid him to say that to me infront of Simon.

you may be wondering where is the trauma i promised in my title.
about 6 hours ago, i was fast asleep, until skype woke me.
"who's calling me at 7 in the morning?" i thought to myself as i stumbled to the screen with my half-opened eyes.
before i made it, the ringing stopped and i struggled to recognise the username.
curious to who it was, i rang back.
really wish i hadn't now.
sleepily sounding Hello was all i could project into my mic.
to be greeted back with the sounds of a guy trying to reach orgasm.
it took my consciousness a full 36 seconds to realise what was happening before i hung up, wholly disgusted.
i couldn't help but think "yeuck! yeucK! YEUCKKKk!"
how sick.
completely overwhelmed with abhorrence, i blocked the user and deleted the call on the list.
praying and hillsong music was the only things that helped me get back to sleep.

now that i'm fully awake after a balanced lunch of lettuce, cucumber, ham, multigrain bread and haagen dazs, a thought came.
if i was traumatised enough by that 30ish seconds of audio.
i can only imagine the scar of a rape victim.
often, i kid with the probability of rape if no one walks me home late at night.
now my actions bring me to shame.
the tongue is so powerful, i think i might just have to cage mine from today onwards.

watch your tongue.
it has the power of life and death.

PS i'll be away this weekend so see yall end of the week.