You can’t go home again

Last night was a real slap in the face for me.

When Sir first met me I lived in the forgotten boro. Forgotten by the rest of the city and in some ways time itself. I know in just the past couple of years it has changed and not for the better.

It was my step-sons confirmation dinner. A great Italian restaurant. That’s the one thing that they have over all he other boros, the food. It may not have the vast selection, but the food of the nationalities that live there is near perfection.

As soon as I came in I was greeted not by a little kid, but by an almost young man. Still all hugs and cuddles, but now two inches taller than me and a voice that promises to be as deep as Sirs. I said my hellos to the family and his mom. The bride and groom were not there yet, but I have no need of them to put me at ease. I’m now just as much one of them as I could be in our mutual disdain of my ex.

As with all family gatherings the more some people drank the more offensive they became. This family no different, there was the asshole of the group. Freshly engaged, he looked like the guy from the jersey shore tv show, you know the druggie. He sadly acted like it and as he drank more his political views came out in the most offensive way possible. I’m not shocked by it as it is the popular mind frame of the people there. Yet this guy pushed it further, condoning rape and many other things. He was told multiple time that this was not the place for such talk and I got a few digs in, but…he is really family and I’m not. So the grandfather took over the fight with him while I left for a smoke. His fiance just sat there and nodded her head in agreement with him.

Now let me just say this place is a mere one bud stop from where I live now, separated by a bridge. The bridge is the great divide. The majority of the residents started on this side and moved there for space and houses and yards. They are secular and whenever you have that mind frame it breeds ignorance.

While I was outside I listen to some of the most ridiculous conversations and notice that at the deli across the street was an old white man with a chair outside listening to metal music. I paid him little mind.

I went back in and the bride showed. We ended up on a topic of her move to my neighborhood and I told her trust me, it will take time to adjust, but then you’ll come back and you will see all the stuff you didn’t and wonder how the fuck you ever lived here.

The mother just kept talking to me about my ex and the fights they have and on and on. I stopped her and told her the greatest thing I have going for me is as soon as the divorce goes through I have no connections to him at all. I will stay in my stepsons life, he can’t stop that but I never have to hear of him again. In other words shut up. Then she changes topics to having more kids, come on, now are you just going to hit every topic that will make me want to punch you in the face. The bride steeped in twice and the second time told her sister, enough, go back to your seat. She honestly wasn’t being mean, she is just that stupid.

The asshole started up again, me being on the other end of the table from my stepson excused myself saying that I had to go take my cunt to pee. Since he felt it was ok to refer to all woman as pussy’s. He looked offended that I referred to myself as a cunt. Funny the words that will shock people. I then said I can’t do this and went outside.

This is where the slap comes in. I listen to these two drunk, blue collar, over cologned asshats discussing how they are going to become real estate moguls. Gentrification has started in some of the bad neighborhoods there. They referred to the yuppies moving in, I laughed and said, no those are hipsters, but since I was a woman they pretended to ignore me. I tapped one on the shoulder and said “you see, I’m a yuppie, a hipster is much different, the yuppies know to leave this shit hole and all the assholes in it”. Oddly I got no reaction, they went back inside. I just needed to get the anger out before i had to go back in too. By this point half the table was drunk and I was still nursing my first and only glass of wine. I know better than to drink in certain people’s company.

Before I went in a car pulled up. A young girl driving, music on, her mom gets out. A white woman around my age, well dressed, but a mess. Goes over to the old guy at the deli and I’m like Am I really seeing this? Yup, I was a fucking drug deal. They didn’t even try to hide it and as the woman gets back into her daughter’s care she yells at her for having the music too loud. It wasn’t loud. to which her daughter responds, mom just get in the fucking care before you get us arrested. At this point I’m like holy crap, maybe it’s better to go inside. 5 women walk out, drunk, probably high. One says oh, remember that patient, says the full name, address, condition and how they would know them that included about five people along with what this person did for a living. Hello Hippa? As I’m walking in the door I say that aloud.

I pass the bar to get back to the table and caught a smell that only exists on the island. It through me back to a time when I waitresses and the waiters from the Italian restaurants would come to eat after the shifts were over. It’s a horrible smell of stale liquor, garlic and too much cologne, it’s coming from a couple at the end of the bar and I catch him saying to her, well we could just get a whore like her and fuck her. Dude, I’m dressed like I work in an office, not an ounce of anything showing and your girls tits are resting on the bar. Not a fucking chance in hell that you’d ever fuck me. He tried to grab my ass as I passed.

So I get to the table and leaving out the last story proceed to tell the bride of all the things I saw while outside. I tell her…guess what, once your gone all the things your were blind to you now see and you can never come home again.




2 thoughts on “You can’t go home again”

  1. My mind has been officially blown. Consider yourself lucky you got out. Down South, people in a similar demographic are called White Trash. They’re some good people among them, but for the most part, the culture is an unending cycle of ignorance, poverty, and alcoholism/addiction.
    How ironic they’re celebrating a Confirmation.

    Liked by 1 person

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