timeless: a cautionary tale

Trigger warning for anyone sensitive to discussion over sexual violence and/or topics of that nature.

•••

It was a Tuesday. Just a Tuesday. In fact, it was such a mundane Tuesday that I wanted something interesting to happen to me. I had been working nonstop for two weeks, and working 10 hour days. I’ve had my head in the game lately, and I'm proud of that fact. But I let my intuition slip when I received this text. 

Ireland 🤍 

TUESDAY 3:00 PM

Babe

Tomorrow night i have vip access to go see Kaytranada

You in???

fuck yea im in

I have never agreed to something, so out of left field, so fast. This, THIS was exactly what I needed. A phenomenal dj set by THE fucking Kaytranada. I had to know more.

Ireland 🤍

TUESDAY 3:12 PM

how did you get these tickets?!?

I have my ways

But like i have vip access and want to give it to people who love him

you’re going right 

Bitch DUH 

WE GOIN

We’re fucking going! 

I spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up homework, cleaning my apartment, and just getting my ducks in a row so that I could spend tomorrow relaxing before the concert. 

I actually had a wonderful night. My boyfriend and I spent the night in, cooked dinner for two, and watched a movie. Little moments like that creep up on you in the middle of the mundaneness of a weekday. It’s refreshing. It’s beautiful. 

Wednesday rolls around and suddenly I'm doing algebra at 9:00am. Class drags on, but all I can think about is this concert later. The VIP access. All for free. When does that ever happen?

Matt and I run errands throughout the day- another one of those beautiful moments- and I catch myself actually wincing at the idea of going to this concert later. What am I thinking?, I wonder. Am I really rejecting the idea of free VIP Kaytranada tickets right now? Like, can I stop?

Sometimes my anxiety will stop me from doing exciting things because suddenly, in my mind, they become frightening. I should’ve listened to my gut this time. 

I brush the thought off like I never had it. 

Ping!

Ireland 🤍

Wednesday 1:00 PM, on the dot

Meet at 7 to get ready together

bet. where?

~several hours pass~

Wednesday 5:47 PM

helloooooo

At yours! sound good?

perf. see you soon

I set up a comfy little “get ready station” by my big standing mirror. I have Kaytranadas boiler room set playing, and snacks on deck. Ireland arrives promptly at 7 pm, I buzz her into my building and we walk up the stairs to the fourth floor. The chatter that follows is one with a tone of girly excitement. Turns out Ireland’s got an extra ticket, and we ask Matt to tag along.

She tells us there are 4 tickets total. So if me, her, and Matt are going, who’s the fourth?

We dress to the fucking nines. Makeup is laid, and the heels are on. I was ready to grab tonight by the throat. Plus, it was a full moon! The energy tonight was going to be high. 

Ireland bought the uber, and we all made our way to the gates of my building. “So, who else is coming?” I ask through steps. “Oh! My friend Crystal, you’ll love her.” Ireland replies. She pulls out her phone and brings up Crystal's Instagram. I’ve never heard her mention this person before, but I roll with it, she looks nice enough. I don’t think about it too long. Next thing we know we’re in the uber, courtesy of Carlos, and we’re headed downtown. 

Once we arrive we all hop out of the car, and walk towards the box office. Ireland’s on the phone with Crystal. “There you are! I see you!” she shouts. The two hug like it’s a long awaited reunion. Yet I've never heard of this girl. 

Ireland and I met about a year ago, and instantly hit it off. We became the bestest of friends, and soon integrated our friend groups. We just get each other, you know? So while I didn't know Crystal, I didn’t have a problem with her coming with us. Plus I trust Ireland with my life. I trust her judgment too. I realize later tonight, I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. 

“Have you met Zoe?” Ireland asks Crystal. “No, never!” 

Ditto. 

“Nice to meet you, you look gorgeous!” I say. 

“Thank you! You too!” 

Vibes are vibing so far. 

I introduce Matt too, and after we all say our hellos, we walk to the box office to pick up our tickets. Ireland’s on the list. 

“Yes, 4 tickets for Ireland Park?” 

The attendant looks confused. Fuck, did her connect forget to put us on the list?

“I see your name here, but there’s only three tickets.”

I look around. I already know these girls are going to single out my boyfriend. I by no means wanted him to leave. Ireland tries to explain to us what the attendant said and we’re just standing there in disbelief. 

Crystal’s looking around like she is made of concrete and will not be moving from her spot. I can tell Ireland is internally panicking and my first instinct is to soothe her but I can't. Why are there four of us here if there are only 3 fucking tickets? 

Crystal and Ireland look at each other, both suddenly two stone statues. They keep glancing at Matt. 

“Look guys, it’s fine, y’all go ahead, Matt and I will take off from here.” I say with a sigh, but still a firm tone. Of course I want to go, but now we have to exclude my best friend, my Matt.

I don’t think y’all understand, that boy truly is my best friend. If we have the opportunity to do something like this together, WE TAKE IT. We wanted to do this together. We’ve spent endless nights driving in his car bumping Kaytranada. 

“No!! Look Matt, I promise I will make it up to you, I’m so sorry.” says Ireland.

Matt interjects. “No no no, Zoe baby you go. I can uber home.” I saw the look of defeat on his face. “Babe no let me come with you.” I said. He insisted I stay. The girls are looking at me with a look telling me to take him up on his offer. 

I do. 

We hug goodbye and I hold him tight. This isn’t going to be the same without him. But I've got two conflicting sides in my ear telling me to stay. So off we go. 

Tears well up in my eyes as we check in. I felt awful he couldn’t be there. I felt so goddamn awful. With what I know now, I should’ve insisted I go with Matt.

•••

The venue was beautiful. The music was loud, and the cocktails were cocktailing. We were all dancing to the music, and radiating the magicalness that was Kaytranada. 

Rico is the name of the sound manager that hooked Ireland up with free tickets. In the middle of 10%, she turns to me and Crystal and says, “Let’s try to find Rico, maybe he can get us backstage!” So we leave our spot in the pit, and follow Ireland around the venue. 

Rico is nowhere to be found, so we text him. He then invites us to the after party at the Powder Room. Hell yes. 

I immediately text Matt, and tell him to meet us there, trying for a shot at redemption from the whole ticket debacle. He declines, and a piece of me breaks off. 

The show ends, and we order an Uber Black to the Powder Room. How fucking fancy, i think. I’ve never done this before. Turns out it’s just a giant Escalade that picks you up and drops you off. Like any other Uber, but $25 extra. 

We hop out like celebrities. Crystal knows the bartender here, so we don’t even have to show our ID’s. We stroll in, hand over our phones, and head straight for the bar. The bartender hooks us up completely. Everything was free.  

I look around, scanning for actual celebrities. I see Chanel Tres, and Kaytranada standing with Rico. We’re too scared to approach the trio. They’re already surrounded by other people, mostly men. But we’re in the same damn party. 

We had one cocktail at the venue. Now the bartender is pouring all of us a drink! A dirty martini for Crystal, a spicy marg for Ireland, and an espresso martini for me. So that’s cocktail number 2. This is an important detail to note. 

The bartender, we’ll call him Alan, he had a major crush on Ireland. White guy, mid twenties, bartending for a living so that means one of two things. He’s actually super ambitious with a life plan to make it out of the service industry, or this IS his life plan— bartending. Forever. 

So obviously since he’s lowkey in love with Ireland, he is flirting with her all night. On the outside, she’s not having it. But I can tell in her eyes, she’s considering it. 

“God, where are the eligible bachelors?” she asks. Crystal agrees and starts wandering around the bar. I’m just happy to be there. I keep glancing at Kaytranada, watching him own the room. Drink in hand we all follow her to a corner. After some time talking and sipping, 2 men in suits approach us. 

“How are we doing ladies? Enjoying the party?” one of them says in a thick spanish accent. I take a beat, as I honestly hate being approached by men, but Crystal is quick to respond. She then says in a tone of voice much higher than the one she’s been using all night, “We’re having a wonderful time!! My name is Crystal Marquez. This is Ireland and, remind me of your name sweetheart?” she says to me. 

Right. 

Crystal felt like the type of woman we all meet in our lifetime. The one so obsessed with male attention that she’ll forfeit her intelligence, or ignore the other women around to appeal more to these men. I clocked it immediately. 

Fucking whatever, I thought. I had no intention of chatting with these men anyway. The one man I wanted couldn’t even be here tonight. Fucking. Whatever. I sip my espresso martini and let the girls do the chatting. 

Turns out both of these men are millionaires. One comes from oil money; one’s built a widely popular AI model. Heard of Chat GPT?

I didn’t speak but I listened. It's not like they paid me any mind, and I actually preferred it that way. Pro tip: bleached brows repel men.

Finally the two men left and we could go back to the girl talk and revel in the celebrity filled room. We walked to the bar and got drink number 3: another espresso martini for me, a dirty martini for Crystal, and another spicy marg for Ireland. Made by below averagely attractive bartender, Alan. 

We’re all sitting and chatting in a cute, dark spot of the bar. The tone is moody and eclectic, and so is the conversation. I find myself having a fabulous time. I sink into my seat and Crystal leaves for a moment to walk around the bar. In our drunken haze, I have a heart to heart with Ireland. 

“I love you like a sister, I.” 

“I love you too Zoe, really. I’d die for you bitch.”

A waiter stops by our table to ask if we’re doing okay. “Oh we’re great! Thank you.” He nods and takes a seat with us. Oh?

“Okay but how are we really ladies?” I’m starting to wonder where the fuck Crystal went. Ireland and I make eye contact. I interject. “We’re just fine. Really.” He crosses his legs and leans in. I can now see the rhinestone claw clip in his hair. Ohhhhhhhh. 

He starts to go on about how a bartender named Ralphie said Ireland and I were “cute” and if either of us were interested. 

I hate that Raphie sent the gay waiter to do his bidding, hoping that his outward approach would entice two women to not only give him an answer, but to feel comfortable. Ralphie's generalization of Ireland and I was a red flag to say the least. Like, just pick one girl to hit on. Don’t pitch your ball into the stands and hope someone, anyone catches it. 

I tell Mr. Waiter I'm spoken for. Ireland also politely declines. He gets up a little dissatisfied with our answers and walks away. Moments later, Crystal reapproaches us and takes a seat. 

“Where were you babe?” asked Ireland. Crystal opens her mouth to speak, but Mr. Waiter pops right back in. He has three shots in his hands. 

“This is tequila Reposado, top shelf, top tier. Shots are $65. But for you ladies, on Ralphie of course.” 

Us girls look at the shots, then back at each other, then back at the shots, then back at the waiter. “Y’all don’t look too happy about these as I thought you would. You look like I just killed your dog.” To be honest, I was thoroughly drunk and didn't want any more liquor. 

“Who is Ralphie?” I asked. “The one with the mustache! Brown hair. You see him over there?” he says as he points to the crowded bar. And yes, I do see him. All 5ft of him. 

“Ahhhh okay. Uhm, you can leave the shots. Thank you, sorry.” 

He gets up again, defeated. 

Crystal picks up a shot. “Well? When in Rome?” I look at Ireland, both of us so drunk, we’re about to call it a night. To my surprise, Ireland picks up the shot. “Oh what the fuck.” She takes it in one go, and so does Crystal, so I pick up my shot and smell the tequila. I’ve never had reposado before but i’ve heard wonderful things about it.

Down the hatch. 

Now we’ve each had about 3 cocktails, and one very strong shot of tequila. Yet Ireland is progressively getting more drunk, much faster than Crystal and I. Crystal doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. Alan cannot stop staring over here. I can't help but wonder what his intentions are. After some loud laughter, we decide we’re gonna leave the Powder room. 

Crystal tells us she met a British guy who is throwing a second afterparty at his apartment and that we should go. I think to myself, ah, so that’s where you’ve been. 

Ireland literally starts to go mute, and Crystal keeps asking her if she wants to go. Ireland makes a nodding motion and drunkenly agrees. Crystal lets out an excited squeal, and orders the next uber before I even get the chance to speak. She didn’t ask me anyway. 

There is no way I'm about to leave Ireland to the devices of Crystal at this “afterparty” hosted by some British guy. That’s right, we never got a name, nor what he does, nor why he was there, nothing. Complete mystery man, we’re all going off of what Crystal has told us. I’m becoming sketched out by this girl. 

At this point, while we wait for the uber, I am holding Ireland upright on my own. She’s getting less coherent by the minute. I’m becoming worried, but everytime Crystal mentions the “afterparty” Ireland gets a jolt of excitement again. So off we go… in another Escalade. 

Ireland is swaying to the music and I’m holding her hand. I hear Crystal repeat the address to the driver, so I try to sneakily type the same address to my phone and send it to Matt as well. 

This isn’t an apartment, no no. This is a fucking hotel. 

Odd. She specifically said apartment. British people know the difference, right?

We pull up and it’s absolutely a hotel. I whisper to Ireland, This isn’t an apartment, but she doesn't register it. British guy meets us at the front and hugs Crystal and grabs her hand. The uber sped off. I’m still holding Ireland's entire body weight. Suddenly I’m stone cold sober. 

“Let’s go upstairs guys!” says Crystal. 

“No, I think me and Ireland will wait here in the lobby. She’s too drunk right now. I’m going to call Matt to pick us up.”

Ireland goes mute, her eyes beginning to shut. 

“Noooo cmon, let’s go to the afterparty and convene there!” 

I roll my eyes and look at Ireland, starting to drool. Crystal has already turned away and started walking with the British guy. I ask Ireland if she wants to go upstairs, or wait here. She looks in Crystal's direction and says “Zoeeee let’s goooo.”

So we follow them up. I pass the front desk lady, and she’s giving me a dirty look. I want to go home so fucking badly. I’m having a sneaking feeling there is no afterparty. And this hotel is freakishly quiet. 

We arrive on the third floor, and I'm still holding Ireland, while Crystal is fully entranced by the British guy. I’m starting to realize why we were brought here. This was Crystal's buffer to hook up with this guy. There is no afterparty, Ireland is a zombie, and I am the caretaker to take her off of Crystal's hands, so that she can pretend we’re not here, and get some dick. Who the FUCK even is he? And more importantly… 

Why. The. Fuck. Am. I. Here. 

And who the fuck even are you, Crystal? 

He unlocks the door to his room, we all walk in and Ireland books it for the bathroom. I followed her in and shut the door. She leans over the toilet and I hold her hair back and start to vent. 

“That guy said this was his apartment. He said there was a party here, and look around… there is no one here BUT HIM! What are we doing here, I??? I think Crystal fucking lied, dude. I’m calling Matt to pick us up.” All the while she is puking into the toilet. 

I dial Matt’s number but before I hit call, Ireland starts to cry. I put the phone down and rushed to her. She starts to throw up on the side of the toilet, on the floor, and all over herself. I leave the restroom to grab her some water, and find Crystal and the British guy chatting. I try to be quick and out of the way. They don’t really acknowledge me. I rush back to Ireland and hand her the water. She starts to violently puke again. I hold her hair back and try to make this fucked up situation comfortable. I can’t stop thinking about how we were led here under the pretenses of an afterparty. 

I have never seen Ireland this drunk, and we’ve been out together plenty of times. We all had the same amount to drink, i couldn’t help but wonder if something was put in her cocktails. I’m starting to get genuinely worried, and scared. I don’t even know how much worse it’s about to get. 

•••

I let vomit-soaked Ireland lay on my chest on the floor by the toilet for a moment. I take in this moment of peace. I haven't sat down since we got here. But this restfulness is short-lived. I start to notice how quiet it’s become in the hotel room outside. I sit up and spill Ireland’s water on my phone. “Fuck!” I pick it up and stand up to towel-dry it. In the process, Ireland lays down on the floor, in the puddle of water. Suddenly, it’s dead silent. 

A few seconds pass. I start to hear movement. Then, I start to hear whimpering. 

It occurs to me, like the strike of a match, that Crystal is having sex with that British guy. I start to panic. I dont know whats going on anymore, I dont want to fucking be here anymore, and I’m becoming enraged by this situation. Ireland starts to throw up some more on the floor, and it's getting all over my legs. 

“GET UP IRELAND. CRYSTAL IS FUCKING THAT DUDE. PLEASE GET UP, I WANT TO LEAVE.”

She’s not budging. 

“IRELAND IM FUCKING SERIOUS, GET THE FUCK UP OR IM LEAVING.”

I don’t know what I really expected from her at this point. That she was supposed to spring up and walk herself out of here? In the moment it made sense. So I tried to help lift her up. I couldn’t get her up past her knees. I simply wasn’t strong enough. 

Crystal’s moans grow louder and louder. And my heart keeps dropping farther, and farther. I’m thinking of my home. My family. Taking walks in the fading sunlight. I want to be anywhere but here. The fluorescent lights are becoming blurry. 

“IRELAND, PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU TO GET UP!” I screech as I'm trying to lift her body weight. I can hear her telling me to stop. I’m stifling a sob. “Please…. I don’t feel safe. Please come with me, I.”

I’m starting to give up. 

“Come on me!” I hear Crystal shout. Are you fucking kidding me? I just met you two hours ago, and you’re having sex 10 feet away from me? Are you that fucking weird that this is what you’ve resulted to? 

Ireland has stopped answering me and starts snoring loudly. I can hear the British guy talking back. I want to run out the front door so bad but I can’t leave Ireland here. I just can’t. 

I have no idea who this man is. Assuming the sex outside is consensual, what about Ireland? What about when he’s done with Crystal, and sees Ireland face down, and unconscious in his hotel bathroom, what if he wants another round and doesn’t care who it’s with? Why should he? He managed to have not one, not two, but three girls in his hotel room after a night out. Who’s to say what his next move will be? 

What if he comes in here, and rapes my best friend because I left? Because she’s alone, and drunk off her ass? Or because that fucking Crystal couldn’t care less what happens to Ireland? 

Or what if he comes in here, and finds me? Who’s going to stop him from trying to get to me next? Crystal? Ireland?

Truth was, nobody would have. I needed to make a choice. Stay here, and find out… or leave. 

I couldn’t stop seeing flashes in my mind of what could happen if I left right then. I looked at Ireland sleeping on the bed of towels I made, some still soaked in puke, and missed her so much. I knew if she was awake she wouldn’t stand for this. Crystals moans started to dissipate. Yet my heart was still racing. 

I text Matt that I’m coming down to the lobby soon. In my head, Ireland is still coming with me. I decide to try and ask her one more time.

“Ireland. Matt’s here to pick me up. I’m going to go with him. Are you going to come with me?” I ask calmly. 

I see her eyes open. “No.” she mutters. I spring up. “No?? Ireland, why not?”

“Call you tomorrow.” She says sleepily. “Promise me you will call me Ireland. Promise me??” 

“I promise zoe.”

That’s all I needed to hear. I trust her. I tell her goodbye and turn to leave. Crystal is still having sex with this British stranger. I once again, can’t believe i am in this situation. 

I bolt out of the bathroom door, locking it behind me so that no one can get to Ireland. I book it to the front door to the room, and then straight for the elevator. 

I finally let myself cry. I start mashing buttons recklessly to try and get somewhere but the elevator isn’t moving. Panic is starting to set back in. I call Matt, who is waiting in the lobby. 

“Press B2, baby. It’ll take you to the parking garage.” he says over the phone. 

Sure enough it did, and i find myself in a desolate concrete garage. I sprint through barriers of doors and finally land in the lobby, looking disheveled, crying, and wet with throw up that isn’t mine. 

The lobby lady doesn’t bat and eye. 

I walk straight to her and try to explain my situation, hoping they can let me and Matt back up so that we can carry Ireland out of there. 

Long story cut short, she doesn’t let either of us back upstairs after lots of back and forth, and security escorts us out. It’s now 2:30 am, and Matt and I head home. 

I’m a shell of a person. I’ve cried so much I don't think there’s any water left in my body. The drive home is quiet, with a lingering sense of defeat and destruction. 

I arrive home and wipe my makeup off. I stare into the mirror and see myself, mascara smeared and all, staring back. I look at my eyes, my mouth, and my hair. I'm so sorry Zoe, I tell myself. I drop my head and start to cry. How could I let this happen? Or am I just blaming myself? Why was I all alone? 

The next morning, I’m a swollen mess. I woke up to see 6 missed calls from Ireland. I call her back, and she’s okay. 

Thank god. 

Crystal took her home around 6am. 

This is where this story ends. I don’t know what it means for my friendships, and I don’t know what it did to my sanity, but this experience absolutely rewired me as a person. I can feel it. I’m different after this. 

I have never felt so freaked out. I am typically very calm in situations that are difficult but this was traumatic. For days after this I was very anxious, and quiet. I lost my appetite. I didn’t leave the house until recently. Kept my head in the books. This reset my nervous system. 

I tried talking it out with my other friends, because sometimes talking about it helps you work through the emotions. The more I talked about it, the more details I began to forget. 

Turns out, that’s what trauma does to your brain. It hides the pain from you so that your body can try to cope. 

So much could have gone wrong that night and I am so, so thankful it didn’t. 

If there is anything you take away from my cautionary tale, please let it be this: Trust your instincts. If you get a bad feeling about something, PLEASE trust it. Don’t ignore it. If you're invited out with people you’ve never met, always take care of yourself first. You never EVER know what someone’s intentions are. If you’re ready to go home, go home. If someone tells you there’s an after party somewhere, take the minute it takes to look the address up on google. If something doesn’t seem right, DO NOT GO. End the night there. Fuck politeness. 

zoe