i met a girl last night.

no, this is not a coming out story. though we’re all a little gay. but that’s beside the point. i met this particular girl through another friend of mine. usual, normal you say? not so. she was standing there with a bouquet of flowers for our mutual friend who was about to play a show. our friend was bragging about his flowers while she was standing there hiding behind them. a pretty face, striped dress and some antique earrings that made her shaved head seem vintage. our friend left us there awkwardly looking everywhere but at each other until i broke the ice and asked her how she knew our friend. some momentary hesitation. maybe a stutter. perhaps a look of guilt. “Online” she said. i try to act normal. meeting people online is not normal for me. it probably should be, since it’s 2012 and all, but i’m still totally weirded out by it. call me old fashioned, but i like awkward introductions and conversations that are hard to start and consciously being aware of how long i’m looking into a strangers eyes. anyway, i try to be cool about it. “Online, sweet.” i somehow sincerely manage to say. but i take note of this.

fast forward about 1 minute and 37 seconds and we’re both knee deep in conversation with one another. i’ve forgotten to keep count of the 4 second eye contact rule and don’t worry about laughing in all the right places. the real clincher: we both say ‘patriarchy’ at the same time. and then we hug because of it and a new friendship is born. we move to the bar because we might as well sit down and drown in our conversation. i get a cheap beer and she gets an amaretto sour. you can’t go wrong with one of those, its true. She buys my drink and before I can say thanks says, “I feel like if I have money, I have to share it.” i get a glimpse of her ID and see that she has hair in it. i take note. we cheers and give thanks to the god of student loans.

we talk about school, education, IQ tests, capitalism, being radical, psychology, fetishes, etc. we’re a good 10 minutes in. I take a sip of my beer and am about to commiserate with something she had just said when out of the corner of my eye I see a movement. I put down my beer and look over and she’s already halfway to the door. to leave. i stare. she doesn’t look back. i keep staring for what seemed like an eternity. she doesn’t come back.

was it something i said? did she say “i’ll be right back” and i just didn’t hear? did she get an emergency phone call? is she a serious chain smoker that has to get up and have a cig before a sentence can be completed? am i seeing people? people start going crazy at 25. how many months until i turn 25? am i schizophrenic? does that even make sense? no. was she an angel? would an angel buy someone a beer?

i’m clueless, bewildered and all the rest of it. i look around like someone just played a practical joke on me. i almost try to find my friend to see if he has the flowers she gave him or if i made it all up. but then my friend Sarah walks in. before we can get to the hello how are yous i ransack her with questions. “Did you see a girl out there? With a shaved head, striped dress?” She looks at me weirdly and says, “uh, there were 3 black girls out there. was she black?” i say no. she must have really booked it out of here. what happened? i’m freaking out. i tell sarah i’m freaking out. she kinda starts freaking out. and then our friend in the band comes up. he says hello to sarah and turns to me and says, “Hey. Um, so my friend just left because she saw her abuser. and she wanted me to tell you she was sorry but she had to go.”

ABUSER? WUHAT?

i just barely comprehended what he said and in the same thought i’m thanking god i’m not crazy and cursing god because what the hell? an incredible, smart, bold, beautiful girl just fled the scene because some crazy dude thought one time that it’d be ok to hurt her? damn. i mean, daaaaaaamn. i didn’t think that happened to people my age. i wish it never happened at all. i hope she’s ok. i guess i’m glad she left. i’m really sad she left. i wonder if there’s an online group for people who are abused and that’s how my friend met her. does that happen? i remember her hair in the ID. did she change it so she wouldn’t be recognized by HIM? i start scanning the room, who is this guy and how can i kill him? or at least yell at him, cause i think i’m a pacifist sometimes. how can she trust any man enough to give one flowers? how long did she stay with him? what helped her leave? how is she so strong now?

so many questions. and i may never see her again.