Self

Today is my first day off of work in two years. Today, my alarm clock didn’t go off at 4:30AM. Instead, I was awakened by the white-hot light of the Florida sun inconsiderately assaulting my eyelids. Looks like my natural wake time is actually around 8:30AM. Who knew?

I sat up and stretched my arms out above my head, just like all the pretty girls in the movies do when they wake up. I popped out of bed and slipped into my coziest sweatpants. I didn’t really have a plan for the day. I just wanted to get on the next bus out of my small town and lose myself in a city - any city.

I walked over to my closet and pushed aside my usual greys and navy blues, khakis, and dress pants. What was hiding in the back? What outfit could I choose to associate this day with for the rest of my life? Then I remembered. It was crazy, but it could be perfect. I had a trashy, tiny pink glitter mini dress from my best friend’s bachelorette party and a pair of miles-high stilettos I could wear with it. I spent the next few hours on makeup, hair, dressing, laying on the couch, and eating a quart of ice cream. Oh, how I’ve missed being myself!

Armed with my showy dress, my sexiest lingerie, my trampiest makeup, and my biggest hair, I strutted down the hall with strides miles wide. I bought a hot dog from the street cart on the corner. Then, I crossed the street and walked over to the bus stop. I took a seat on the bench next to a handsome-looking business man. He was tan, with beautiful dark hair he had combed neatly up and to the side. I noticed him eyeing me while I was crossing the street. Taking an extreme risk, I deliberately placed a small dab of mustard on his pant leg when he looked away.

“Excuse me, Sir,” I began, “I hate to bother you, but I just spilled some mustard on your pant leg there. I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, that’s alright,” he said, looking me up and down.

“Let me just get that for you,” I offered. I licked my thumb and rubbed it slowly up his thigh to get the mustard. What the f*ck am I doing?!

I looked into his eyes, blushing behind my makeup. He was blushing too!

Luckily, before things could get awkward, the bus arrived, and I was separated from my mustard spill fantasy lover. I rode the bus all the way to Ybor.

I payed my fare and started my way down the street. I had almost forgotten how crowded cities could get at night. I saw a few clubs that weren’t charging covers for ladies. I decided on one called Honey Pot. It looked the most inviting, and I was beyond ready to get a drink and start dancing. I got up to the bar and ordered myself a dirty shirley. The bartender stared at me blankly. I pulled out my phone and typed. “Sprite, Grenadine, 1 x Vodka.” I received a nod, and 30 seconds later, a drink. After paying, I turned around and found myself face to face with Mustard Man.

“Oh! Hey, how’s up - I mean what’s up?” he blurted out nervously.

“Hey there, Mustard Man. Thought I lost you when the bus stopped,” I joked.

“To be honest, I skipped a meeting to follow you here,” he replied smoothly.

“Really?”

“No,” he replied as he looked me over again and ran a hand back through his hair, “I just didn’t know where else to hang out tonight, and you were pretty easy to spot in that dress!”

“Well, if you’re looking to have a fun time tonight, be my guest! I’m Rori, by the way. And you are - ”

” - Tom, I’m Tom. I’m sorry, but I can’t be Mustard Man for the rest of the night,” he chuckled.

I laughed, and then I snorted. Loudly. I'm glad that was Rori, not me.

We danced the night away and enjoyed a few more drinks together. Then, I took Tom back to my place.

The next morning, I woke up to my blaring alarm in the dark, and it was time to be Ted again. Just Ted at Best Buy, selling you some flashy new TV and upgrading your warranty on the way out. I sat in bed and contemplated the consequences of not going to work and concluded that hot water is a good enough incentive to go. I showered, got dressed, slammed a cup of coffee, and made my way to the door. Just before I left, I noticed a mustard packet Tom had jokingly left on the bookshelf. I slipped it into my pocket with a smile, and remembered how good it felt to be loved as myself.