Poetry & Prose‎ > ‎

After Steve

What the hell had she been thinking, going after Steve? He was out of her league, always had been always would be, no matter what her friends said. And she’d always known that. Yet she’d still gone after him, still shamelessly thrown herself at him, still thought she might actually have a chance. Stupid. That’s what she was, stupid. But there was life after idiocy, she supposed. It wasn’t like she could go back and change the past. She had done it and now she had to live with it. Not that it really mattered what Steve thought of her, and she truly believed that he would keep it to himself, but that wasn’t really the point. She had finally, after all these years, taken the risk. She’d lain herself on the line and gone for it. And failed.

She wondered how long it would take to build up her confidence again, wondered how long it would take to try again, with some other guy she may meet someday. But with the harshness of rejection, no longer cushioned by alcohol, still fresh in her mind, she had trouble believing it would be anytime soon. There would be life after Steve, after all she hadn’t even liked him all that much to begin with. He just happened to be a good looking guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she knew that whenever “next time” may eventually appear on the horizon, she’d be that extra bit careful. She’d read the signs, she’d aim lower, she’d care less.

The last point resonated in her mind for a moment, as she wondered what “caring less” would entail. She hadn’t really thought she cared about Steve at all. But then maybe it wasn’t Steve she cared about, maybe it was just the situation. She wondered if she could ever “care less” about rejection. She wondered a lot; but through it all, deep down inside, she knew there would be other times, there would be other risks, and other hurts, but most importantly, there would be life after Steve.