The Last Dance

“She can leave, I don’t care”, these were my exact words just after listening to the message. The truth is that I feigned indifference, but I was deeply affected by this sad news. I am losing my best friend. Betty is one of the main people who listens to me without judging me: She is my main confidant.

When a man has problems, he can’t talk about it with another man. Why? Because men in general, lack empathy and they are very poor listeners. After explaining your problem, the typical man will always tell you phrases such as “it’s not that serious”, “Life goes On”, “fuck it, move on”.

Basically, he is telling you that your problem is not that important and sometimes, some dudes say stuff like “you’re talking about your girls problems while in Somalia, there are children dying of hunger.”

I never talk about my problems with another man. When I’m with my guy friends, we only talk about rap and sports. We are always arguing about who is the best MC: Jay-Z, Biggie or Nas? Basically, our conversations are very superficial.

Life is full of ups and downs and when we are going through a rough patch, we need someone to listen to us. In recent months, I have experienced difficult times. I lost my starting spot in the university soccer team. It was a painful moment for me: I was not used to put my ass on the bench. We had changed coaches and I lost my star status: in a short time, I went from hero to zero. My oversized ego took a huge blow. During that period of self doubt, Betty was by my side and I think it’s at that very moment that I fell madly in love with her. Before her, all my friends were guys. Betty came into my life and she was able to fill a void.

Today, my best friend is telling me that she is leaving. I’m torn: I want to call her to talk. But I don’t want to do that because I am still mad at her: That bitch broke my heart. Finally, I decided not to call her. However, I contacted her friend Sharon to tell me where the party at. The D-Day, I show up at the club.

- I did not know you were coming, said Betty when she saw me.

She is smiling at me and she is drop dead gorgeous. In my heart, I’m still bitter as fuck, however, I don’t want to spoil the party so I avoid making disparaging remarks.

- You’re beautiful tonight, I said.
- Thank you, she replied.
- Let me buy you a drink.

I turned around and I ordered half dozen shots of tequila. My goal is to get her drunk. I am convinced that when she will be drunk, she will eventually recover her senses and she will finally understand that I am the man that she needs in her life.

- Where is your boyfriend?, I asked her.
- He is home, he is watching the Nuggets game. When the match is done, he will come.
- The basketball game is more important than his girlfriend, apparently.
- Pascal, stop.
- Yeah, let’s stop talking, let’s go dance.

We empty our glasses and we head to the dance floor. We start dancing and it reminds me of our very first meeting. You know me, my level of tolerance to alcohol is very low, I’m already drunk.

- Betty, I have something I need to confess, I said.
- I’m listening.

I whisper to her ear: “I love you”. She stood still for 30 seconds. She looks confused: I think she is wondering if it’s me talking or the booze. “I’m not in love with Mary, I’m in love with you”. I had to say it again to let her know that I am dead serious and that I mean every single word I say. She smiled. I hold her tighter. My lips are inches away from hers. I close my eyes, I’m about to kiss her when suddenly she says: “Shit, my boyfriend is here.”

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