Thanks again for everyone who entered last week’s short story contest! Last week we asked authors to write about first impressions. We often judge people within the first few minutes of meeting them. Unfortunately, these judgements aren’t always fair or accurate.
This week’s winning entry belongs to Tammy Mack! Tammy wrote a story that shows how jumping to conclusions can often cause you to miss opportunities. You never really know what’s going on inside of a person. Congratulations Tammy and thanks for your entry!
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First Impressions
By Tammy Mack
I glance around my surroundings and wonder, what on earth made me decide to do this. I’m not this person. I don’t party, and I definitely don’t drink. Yet, here I stand, a scotch in one hand, and a horde of people to my left. I hate people, or at the very least, I hate talking to people.
Everyone believes they have something important to say. Something that will shock and awe you to your very core. I’ve yet to be shocked or awed by anyone’s mundane stories.
Yet, here I am, at this party, were I don’t know a single soul. That’s when I see him. Just a glance out of the corner of my eye. However, that one peek is enough to gain my full attention, as I start to stare. Normally I would never do this, but I’m starting to feel the buzz from the alcohol and I have to admit that he isn’t exactly unattractive.
It doesn’t take him long to realize that he has caught my attention, as he begins to stare back at me. It’s then that I realize that I had gained the attention of what I like to call, an attention whore. I can see it in the way he holds himself up. Like he demands the attention of the room. Though to be fair, he is built like a football player on steroids. The short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing shows off his bulging biceps in a way that makes you think he has them on display. His shirt is practically glued to his body, which makes me believe that he purposely bought a shirt that was obviously too small for his thick frame. However, it’s the hair that really does me in on my impression of the person that he is. Perfectly sculpted, not one strand out of place.
I knew I wasn’t a party person, yet I forced myself to come on the off chance I might meet someone worth my time. Obviously I was wrong.
I shirk my jacket off and hang it in the hall closet. I told my best friend I didn’t want a party this year. Things in my life have been less than spectacular, and I felt I didn’t deserve the right to celebrate a year where nothing has gone right. With a sigh, I lean against the far wall and watch the party unveil itself.
I can’t help but think this is exactly how I envisioned my birthday to be. Everyone else partying, having fun, with myself unable to enjoy any of it.
That’s when I see her. I offer her a smile, and stand up a bit straighter, no one likes a sloucher.
Then I watch her frown slightly and look away. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I know that I have to go talk to her. As I make my move toward her, I heard the familiar echo of a microphone. I know what’s coming, and I’m really dreading it. I didn’t even want the party to begin with.
“Hey! Party boys and party girls, let’s give a nice round of applause for the man of the hour. The birthday boy himself, Tristan Marks!”
I sigh, look in her direction once more, before making my way to the front of the room. It’s the same every year. James calls me to the front, he hypes me up, and then I give this big I’m a huge asshole speech. Then we all go home.
Generally speaking, I don’t go home alone, but this year that is all I want, yet James couldn’t seem to take no for an answer. Probably because he doesn’t go home alone either.
“Hey guys!” I fake a smile. “I just want to say thanks for coming out, having fun, and celebrating me.” It’s all I can muster of my usual bluster.
I pat James on the back to make him feel like he did the right thing, before I disappear into the crowd of birthday well wishers.
I can feel a surge of panic rise up within me, as I quicken my steps trying my hardest to make it out of the crowd, when she stops me.
“Hi.” I whisper.
“Hello.” She answered, in a monotone voice.
“I’m…”
“Tristan. Yeah, I heard.”
“And you are?”
“Leaving.”
“Wait. I just wanted the chance to get to know you.”
“I don’t talk to condescending assholes, and you seem to be one of the bigger ones that I’ve met.”
I sigh softly, “And to think, I didn’t even want a party this year.” As I speak, I turn to walk away. I spare her one last quick backward glance, and smile a little at the look of shock and awe on her face.
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You can connect with Tammy on Twitter at @tjmack1986.
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