We've been discussing our finals and listening to The Arctic Monkeys on vinyl. A few of us have finished our food and the majority of us have finished our beers. Someone had the idea to plug in the Christmas lights scattered around the living room. The lights started to sync with the beat of every track. I've been here for a few hours and there's no trace of you. I prefer it.
I spoke too soon. The door flings open, you bend down to pick up a case of beer in either hand, and you haven't realized I'm here yet, but I've realized it's you. You step inside and our eyes meet; yours are hazy - confused - and mine have still seen you for who you are. Nothing has changed. Well, a few things have changed, especially the face and the name of the girl trailing behind you. You introduce her to the group, pour her some wine, and you're as predictable as ever. Please, fabricate another story about your weekly adventures, you know how they thrill. You've done your job when I see her eyes glowing in admiration. She's probably thinking this makes her something, thinking this makes her someone, to be the girl on your arm. I'm sure she's nice enough, maybe we'd even be friends under different circumstances, but I've seen you use and recycle enough women to know she won't last.
You've finished your set and a few bodies away from me you're tonguing her. The spectacle doesn't bother me anymore, but it is difficult to ignore. I feel as if you enjoy the PDA more because you're forcing everyone's eyes to be on you. You both are dancing, off-beat and with little rhythm, but the floor is crowded enough that the fluidity of everyone else almost masks it.
I scan the room and my eyes fall on the last girl. One of the many after me, but the one that severed our ties. I follow her eyes as they follow you and your girl. Once she catches a glimpse of you holding the newbie and running your hands over her body the way you used to do to her, her face falls. The expression is wiped and she stops in her tracks. Her friends nudge her once when they spot you, but she doesn't need to be alerted, she can't take her eyes off of you. I almost felt bad for watching her stand there with her heart in her hand. I almost wanted to comfort her. I almost joined in when her friends decided to bash you for being the "prick that strung her along".
As she continued to trace the outline of you, I could feel this young woman breaking. It was in this moment that I realized you are a vicious cycle. What you did to me and what you did to her are not isolated events; they are your only way of life. I sincerely hope the newbie lasts, but if she doesn't, just know that none of us will be surprised. Excuse me while I wish her the best of luck.