Life as an Extreme Sport

I Am Not Eve

I am not Eve.

Eve is slender and lithe. She is painted into her jeans, paired with a sweater aged just so, perhaps a tiny tshirt edged with lace, and shoes and a purse that cost more than what many of us make in a month. Her piercings are trendy and small; if she has any tattoos, they are undoubtedly sweet, and placed where it is just slightly risque, but still quickly revealed. Her body has tried so hard to fill out the pants and sweater, but her diet prevents all but the gentlest of curves.

She has straight, bleached blonde hair and blue eyes. Or maybe curled brown locks, streaked with red, chocolate pools for irises. Sometimes she’s a natural redhead, other times she’s a fiery fake. Her ID swears she’s 21.

I am not Eve.

I am older, although apparently not wiser. I curve in all the wrong places, and a few of the right, but too much there. My hair is not the right colour, my eyes fade behind crows laugh lines. I paint myself into nothing.

I am there to comfort, to hold hands. I am there to talk to, to reveal the past to. I am there as a foil, to focus the attention of Eve, to make sure she notices the dancing, to make sure she’s jealous enough – bait, for her.

I am not Eve. What I am is ‘the good friend’. The one who gets out of the way.


  1. I am also tired and not thinking quite straight, especially with the fun alcohol/medication combo that I know better than doing.

    I know I wasn’t consciously used as bait.

    I also know that I spent almost five hours there, and less than 5 minutes with the person who invited me – because literally 2 minutes after I arrived, said person got caught up in a cute young thing.

    Which is fine – I can only control my actions and reactions, and I spent time with other folks there. Folks who noticed how rudely I was being treated because a piece of potential ass was around, and went out of their way to include me and be nice. Who were upset I wouldn’t be around for breakfast – but I cabbed myself home.

    I think it’s the last time I’m going over there. Right now, I feel like it’s the last time for a lot of stuff. I’m also tend to dramatic over-reactions and martyrdrom behaviour when I feel like this, so I’ll actually make no decisions or grand pronouncements I intend to hold myself to until I’ve had a chance to cycle back to a bit of perspective.

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