Let the City Take Care of You

Eight years of Tinder and Bumbled empowerment. As the clock struck 30 she wandered the streets in search of solitude.

Eight years of blind dates. Eight years of smells. From nervous sweat to cat urine, dried semen to cheap cologne. Only one smelled of the ocean and exactly zero of the forest floor.

The maths spun as she put increasing distance between herself and the bar; between herself and him. 20 lipsticks, 16 face washes, thousands of dollars of creams, serums, and spot treatments, at least 12 mascaras, four Botox sessions, countless blowouts, and bags of disposable clothing. She unpinned her hair and shook it violently. And for what?

As he returned from the bar and plonked down her third beer, he'd looked at her with that look. That look people get when they're about to be cheeky. His eyes lubed with liquor, he'd watched as she licked spilled beer from her thumb and waited for him to open his mouth. His cheeks darkened as he came out with it and asked. Asked for her number. Oh, come on, you know the one. That number. That big, bad, how many men before me number. She half-laughed as eight plus years ran through her mind. As every night of joy, regret, of drunk fuelled fumble followed by stumbled wander to the free health clinic was relived. She laughed at the number. She laughed at the life she'd lived.

But he didn't. He didn't laugh at all. He left. Called her a desperate whore and left. Left her with a bill for sweet potato fries, cheese sticks, and chicken tenders. Some birthday.

She softly cried beneath a cloudy sky as she perched in the alcove of a darkened boutique. The silence of her tears wed the silence of her phone and echoed through the silence of the street.

He showed up out of nowhere. An older man in driving shoes. He stared at her and blinked heavily, knowingly. Then slowly removed a package of cigarettes from his jacket, bent down and placed one between her lips, then one between his own. He lit them, paused for a moment and walked away. Leaving her to inhale and enjoy the rhythms of her solitude.