Lonely on LSD
A little past 8pm.
A Black Range Rover waiting for me in the parking lot of my high rise.
I tried not to look surprised but my eyes did perk up a bit. Not because I’m not used to nice things but because based off of our FaceTime conversations he kind of struck me as a Hyundai Sonata guy or maybe even a Chevy Equinox, something overall pretty standard.
Walking to the car door I wish I had a glass of wine before leaving my place, just to take the edge off. This was the first date I’ve been on in months. I felt a bit rusty so I overcompensated by wearing more makeup than I usually would and sprayed a few extra spritz of perfume. Plus I needed anything to get my mind off of how badly Stefan and I had ended. This was me putting myself out there, even though I wasn’t really sure if I was completely ready. I’ve never been the type to mourn a man, even though he was still living. He was no longer in my life, which made him dead to me, or at least for now until I could get my feelings together.
This was our first time meeting in person, our conversations we’ve had on the phone over the past week and half helped a bit. I convinced myself meeting in person wasn’t that different, and that’s what I had to remind myself to settle my nerves that wanted to star on tonight’s date. Before reaching for the passenger car door, I took a deep breath and tried to turn the little voice in my head off and be “normal”.
“Hey.” I said casually like my internal pep talk didn’t just take place seconds ago.
“Hey, you smell good.” He stated, eyes bugging slightly with pleasure.
“Thanks.” I replied, and the edges of my lips curved into a smirk. It’s something about being complimented on the way you smell I found to be top tier. I had a whole scent theory I made up, some perfumes were designated for work, chill days with friends, and for date nights. To some it might’ve been tedious, but I haven’t been wrong about it yet.
As we made our way out of the parking lot, Burna Boy was playing from his speakers, and I sunk into the seat. I relaxed a little due to the fact that I liked his music taste.
It was a Saturday night, even though you couldn’t tell by how desolate the streets looked. There weren’t groups of guys and girls club hopping, or lights beaming from all the skyscrapers downtown.
“I can’t believe there isn’t any traffic on Lakeshore Drive, it’s usually bumper to bumper.” He announced.
“I know it’s crazy.” I don’t care what time or day of the week it is, you will see cars jammed going either north or south.
I tried not to over analyze the fact that we were discussing traffic to break up the silence.
Heading north on LSD you can see the Willis tower’s lights beam blue and orange, and the other buildings along Randolph St. radiating the same colors.
“Are the Bears playing tomorrow or something?” I have no clue about sports and I don’t pretend to but I felt the need to make conversation.
“Yeah, I think they’re playing tomorrow.”
“So do you like football or basketball more?”
“I like both, but I guess I’d say basketball.”
“I used to play basketball in high school. I wasn’t that good, it was just something I did to make friends after switching schools.” I admitted in hopes of some type of witty banter.
“Ok.” He responded flatly, eyes glued to the road ahead.
My inner voice resurrected itself and suggested I should just shut up.
Staring out the window, it was pitch black. You couldn’t tell where Lake Michigan stops and where the sky starts.
Navy Pier didn't look the same. Not a glimmer of light, it gave off daunting energy. It was giving a signal that the city could be dead for good, with no sign of a lively return. I used to consider this route to be a scenic one. Even after a rough day riding down Lakeshore, I’d admire the lake and watch the ferris wheel rotate vibrant colors. Now nothing, because of an invisible virus we still didn’t have much information about.
When will things go back to normal?
The truth is, no one knows. But at this moment, in this car with this man I barely know I feel just as empty and lonely as Navy Pier.
- An excerpt from a journal entry written on 1/10/21
