Happy Hour

by Marlowe Granados

My mother always told me that to be a girl one must be especially clever.

You should always keep old friends happy because they know more about you than you’d like.

But there is always a danger in counting on us, especially for feelings.

I can’t tell you how much pressure is put on girls like me and Gala to give other people a good time.

She has never been kind to those she deems easy to talk to. Gala believes conversation should be brimming at argument.

Loyalty has manifested itself as violence throughout history, and, honestly, I think she thought it would make me laugh.

Gala called me a Real Piece of Work. I hope she meant artistically.

I was under the impression that I loved him, simply because I never knew what he was thinking.

Seeing someone you used to love is like visiting a house you once lived in. Everything about them is familiar yet strange.

There is only one rule when we get dressed: if it makes you feel good and there’s a pinch of fear that while in public someone may throw a comment your way or think it’s too much, wear it.

It’s important to know whom the music is for, and it was the girls and gays who invented parties. That’s who keeps the best clubs open, along with the people who always have enough money to forget their misfortune.

You can be absolutely nothing if you want to be. That can be terrifying, especially if you’re always trying to be something or somebody.

Something about retreating to a washroom always provides a comfort. I have given and received plenty of advice in washrooms.

“And for me, where I really belong is almost never where people find me. That’s something I often think about when I am met with hostility. It is never that I have done anything to warrant it; it’s that I’m simply there.”

When we were younger, everything for the first time always felt the best, or at least the Most, and sometimes getting older feels like striking the same chord and it sounding different.

I don’t think I have ever met a woman I wouldn’t consider formidable. My mother was just so. Being a young girl is always a cute trick. It leaves nothing to be desired and it is easy. I feel as though becoming a woman is like a long tradition of going through things and coming out strong, but I am tired and weary!

These men spoke as though a revolution were going to start right from that very bar—as though what they did was necessary and vital to the world. I can hardly understand how they came to think that way.

I wonder how it would be to simply exist and feel my voice was necessary and vital without doing much work at all.

“If you’re smarter than you look, you sure have the advantage.”

“No one can afford tragedy, but there are always things worth salvaging, no?”

If I were to describe typical New York conversation, it would be two people waiting for their turn to talk.

Sometimes Gala and I find ourselves sitting in silence, not for the lack of things to say but because the gift of content silence with someone other than yourself is to be relished.

I am highly educated in true sorrow, so I don’t succumb to silly criticism. In no way am I going to be shocked by someone’s ideas about me.

I could tell Tuzy loved to lavish someone from the outset, testing their reaction to his “strong feelings.” If you’ve been starved for kindness and attention for so long, it’s an easy salve. A high-calorie dessert. After a couple of weeks, he’ll start to withdraw and then disappear almost entirely. You’re left wondering whether anything was true at all, if he meant it. With the quickness of his disappearance, you ask if you did anything wrong to send him away. I’m wary of the type because the initial reasons he’s taken with you are, in the end, the same ones he’ll hate you for. A man like that is only interested in a lady to kiss his forehead and give him the distractions he needs to forget himself.

“It’s funny how in a place where everything is an Experience, people see such little value in just living.”

I admired that because even when she is quiet, she is wielding. This quality, now that I had witnessed it, was one I knew I wanted to acquire. It made me feel she was important and that I wanted her to take notice of me.

Though we give the appearance of it, I wonder when we were last truly carefree. Were we ever? It’s an odd, impalpable thing to always chase. I’ve felt it in small, delicious fragments, and usually when I’m dancing. The only way to achieve even the veneer of such freedom is to resist being pulled down by the weight of everything.

Alice exemplifies the problem of taking yourself so seriously that you lose your sense of humour.

When you really think about it, they’re designed to cause the most hurt with the least effort. You Should Have Some Respect for Yourself.

“Don’t you know, a woman’s first taste of power is through sex. That’s why people want to strip her from her own body. The possibilities are too frightening.”

I realize now, the older you get, the harder it is to be impressed because people make you feel ashamed of ever being impressed by anything at all.

“We couldn’t offer each other anything, and that’s why it was a Romance.”

Sometimes I long for anything that might be frivolous. I go between feeling much too young and much too old for my age.

Boys are always hanging around in groups, making girls uncomfortable.

Anabel said, “Well, darling, it was simple. I had not been in touch with many men at that age, or at least any good men. Anyone who was sweet was surprising. It seemed unbelievable to me. One day he looked at me and said, ‘Anabel, I will never look up or down at you. Let’s get married.’ And we did of course. Things didn’t turn out how either of us thought they would, but we have a beautiful child together, and that’s enough to celebrate from that union. A piece of advice: You’ll come across many people who will want to be with you. People’s imaginations aren’t entirely idle; they can slot you into their futures easily. You have qualities that people wouldn’t mind spending time with, at least for a while. You could be the perfect girl for Anybody. We are conditioned to be obsessed with people falling in love with us. Reaching that point is seen as a success. We’re always asking, ‘Why do they act this way?’ and then morphing, cooing, comforting. By the time you win them over, you don’t know how to really love them in return because we never ask ourselves enough about what we want. Don’t ever forget you have the ability to choose. Never wait to be chosen by someone who came ready to treat you right. I know it may not seem this way in art and literature, but we are not mere vessels for love and admiration. If I said yes to every proposition I was given just because I was flattered by it, well!” What she means is have an idea of what you want and never get talked out of it. I a...

Men are used to getting away with things, and I won’t have it.

She measures happiness and success by the number of vacations someone takes. She’d be surprised at how easy it is to go from country to country without feeling much at all.

How lucky I am to feel the blush of romance and be young enough to break away unscathed, untouched, and free to make the mistake over and over!

To be free to communicate without consequence—is that ever a possibility? I want to say, “I don’t want you to have feelings about my feelings.”

Men are so funny, so noble. But only when it’s easiest to be. It is interesting to note that many people believe getting someone to treat you with respect is an achievement.

I couldn’t wait for a moment in the near future when I would think of him and say, “You’re like a stranger to me. I can’t even remember your face.”

Athleticism is pure in how you can only be very good and very bad at sport. And if you’re good, you’re good. It’s not like art or beauty, where everything can be argued. You either land a little trick or you don’t. People really thirst for that kind of truth in their lives.

Theo wasn’t exactly the type of man he would suggest getting involved with. I said, “Why not? Is he addicted to opiates or something?” These are the standards I’m left with.

Is it wrong to think of pain as quantifiable? If it is not in quantities, how can we digest it? How does it move through our bodies without us knowing its size?

Rage is funny because letting it out leaves you feeling more powerless than you were to start with.

Sometimes when you think of a friendship, you wonder how it ever started and what keeps it together. Today, I couldn’t think of any reason but Memories. Unmoored and drifting, we were only holding on to each other for the sake of a shared history. What else bonded us? A general willingness to not discuss things.

You’d think with the whole world getting warmer, there’d be more alarm.

Sometimes I think I must be attached to reality by a thin string.

Whenever I get caught having feelings outside of what is expected, people act like it’s a deep betrayal. Everything I Ever Did for You, and This Is What You Give Me in Return.

Coop was always crumbling under the burden of being a regular rich person who had to uphold standards, appearances, and customs.