LATITUDE 23

APPROXIMATE READING TIME: 8-10 MINUTES

LATITUDE 23

I do not even know how you heard about me. Wait, I think I do.

You were sitting in a circle around a fire with your friends. The story there was about me and how good I made them feel.  The story was exciting. In fact, so exciting you sat there, zoned out, picturing -through fire colored glistening eyes- how an experience with me could be.  When one of the guys tapped you back to wake, you smiled at him. He asked you what was on your mind and you told him you wanted some time with me. He was so happy for you that he told everyone and they all cheered for you at the news of that. It made your smile widen.

I’m wrong? That was not how you heard about me? Damn.

Who cares anyway? One way or the other you did hear about me.

Where It All Started

The first day we met your friends are the ones who brought you to me. They came in so happy for you, you were the man of the moment. When you got into Latitude 23, a nightclub in your area, where I told them I would be, they looked around for me. One of them saw me first and showed everyone the corner I was sitting in. My face was made up, but not overdone and my long black hair was pulled back into a pony tail. I was well-dressed, bespoke in fact, not sticking out of the crowd but enough to be noticed. Had I dressed in an odd assortment of old clothes with nothing matching and you would have doubted my ability. Had I dressed too boldly, raising eyebrows, and you would have feared me for your own reasons. They looked at you one more time- this time, deep in your eyes while one of them held your shoulders square tight. They assured you that everything would be alright and that you would see it all for yourself. They gave you the courage to come over and talk to me. Patting you on the back, they left.

You started to walk over to me, slowly, one step at a time. You were nervous.  I could tell from the sweat dripping from the corner of your lining. Whatever logic you had left in you was screaming for you to turn and run but you kept walking towards me. I smiled at you to make you comfortable just the way I always did with other people like you. You finally sat down opposite from me and we shook hands firmly with the perfect squeeze and eye contact. You reached for my drink, stared down at it for a second, swirled it and then took a gulp. You were that nervous. I was not going to drink from that glass again after you had drunk from it and so I ordered myself another one. A few minutes later I moved to sit next to you. 

We talked for about an hour under those blue strobe lights. It was like nothing you had experienced before. My hand was on your lap, my leg was brushing yours under the table and my lips were whispering temptations directly into your left ear. I could tell you were more than elated. It was at that point -while you were as happy as a dog with two tails- that I stood up and told you I had to leave. I could see disappointment drain the color from your face. You asked me when next you could see me and I gave you my card, leaving it all up to you. Little did you know that one day you would wish that this day had never happened.

Then Came The First Stage

You did not call me that day, or even on the day that followed. Maybe you did not want to seem desperate or maybe you knew well enough to avoid me. But you could not resist the urge to. So sometime that very week, you searched your room for the jacket you were wearing the day we met, found it, pulled my card out of it, picked up your phone and called me. You asked for us to meet at Latitude 23 again. I agreed to it- it was my job to. We had fun again. And then we met the next day, had fun again. Every day was. And this repeated for days on end. I was your new found love, your getaway, your monomania.

Meeting me at the night club was costly. The ecstasy I give is not free. And so each time you had money I was all that came to your mind. And whenever you did not have money, you would lie, steal and sale whatever around you had value. You had to meet me. I was a lunacy that forced you to meet me against your will. I was the only one who was always there for you whenever you called. Your friends, they would let you down. Your parents, them too. Everyone would let you down, but me. I made the bad times tolerable and the good times even better. And so you fell deeper in love with me.

The Second Stage 

Then came stage two. You grew tired of how you always had to look for money to meet me. You tore my card because you did not want to call me anymore. You grew tired of vowing every night that you would never call me again. You grew tired of lying to everyone about your whereabouts. You grew tired of how your need to meet me had taken you to places you had never envisioned. You even once blew your car up on your way to meet me because you never thought to put oil or water in it. You grew tired of how you had to hide this side of your life from everyone. You grew tired of how, your young sister, who knew about us, would look at you with pity and beg you to end our relationship. You grew tired of how I came before everything that you truly loved. You grew tired of how you would always want to meet me so badly and then wish you had not -so badly- afterwards. You grew tired of how you tried over and over to end our relationship but somehow could not. You grew tired of yourself. You grew tired of me. But at this point, it was already too late. You had long since crossed the invisible line.

The Third Stage

You called your friends to ask them how you could leave me. Surely they had to know, right? But they did not. They were just as naïve as you were. This is the part of the story they left out that night at the fire. You searched the internet for answers and it did not come up short. ‘Tell friends and family that you’re committing to recovery- consider moving into a sober living home-hydrate-stretch-get enough sleep.’ You wrote long lists about how to unscramble your life. Nothing worked though. You searched religion for answers and it had its own. ‘Faith can restore your self-worth and give you a new sense of purpose- increase your day-to-day spiritual experiences- pluck out your right eye- meditate,’ and the list could go on. But you had been with me for far too long for me to let you go as easily as a few steps from the internet or a good book. Your thoughts, your feelings, your sensations would always find their way to me. Deep inside you were not being honest with yourself. You still loved how I was always there for you and so you did not do most of the things you were told to.

In public you looked like you were handling it well. You made sure to keep it away from those who did not know. You told those who knew and cared that you had not met me in weeks. You told people that you were trying to leave me and explained to them the things that helped. You thought that this would help you help yourself. If only. Sometimes, people even came to you for advice and you always knew the right words to say to make them leave feeling hopeful. They even, sometimes, called you The Great White Hope because they believed you were part of their recovery guide. And when all was said and done you would lie on your bed at night with your face to the ceiling and cry to the heavens because you had tried. You had tried to rebuild your life and make it wonderful again but had failed. And what scared you the most was the thought that I was not going anywhere. You would have to live with me and all of my consequences. This was the trench you were going to die in. And all this could be traced to one meeting with me.

And In The End

Easily, very easily, meeting me turned into an addiction. Not always, but very often, one meeting is all it takes. I trapped you, no questions asked. The die was cast. One step taken. One line crossed. You did not know that crossing back might require the struggle of a lifetime. And remember that one lifetime is all you have. If only you could see the endless string of consequences that would result from your actions. If only you had known that you would not know better until knowing better was useless.

If you’re reading this and you have already met me, it is too late. If you haven’t…

Run!

Signed,

Whoever I am to you.