My Experiment | Adam Uthman x Female Reader

Chapter 1 - Her Journal

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️ THIS CHAPTER DOES INCLUDE MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM AND OTHER SENSITIVE TOPICS⚠️  

Your Point of View

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November 10th, 2023

Entry: The pages of this Journal are almost full. Hopefully, It'll last at least until December. I don't even know why I write all this down, not like anyone's going to read this, other than me and the only one I can trust, Elizabeth.

Life sucks.

It does.

Mine at least.

Working as a 27-year-old female bartender fucks your life up. The conversations you hear are messed up. It's always the guys talking too. It pisses me off. I'm right there cleaning wine glasses and they know it.

That's not even the worst part. The worst part is the looks everyone gives you. It messes with your self-esteem. Men give you looks, staring us female bartenders up and down, then make comments on our bodies. Nine out of ten times they say something flirtatious. Men act like I don't have feelings, that I'm just an object for them to use. If you want to dirty-talk me then make it sound like a compliment.

It doesn't matter though... I don't take any of their compliments seriously anyway. I'm too busy working and stressing to talk to men to get a boyfriend. My past experiences weren't the best...

When men at the bar say something flirtatious, they always call us names at the end. They talk shit at the tables and make fun of anyone they want. I've had my fair share of being made fun of.

The female customers are a whole different story.

Some are nice and polite. They come in to grab a drink with a friend or two, catch up on what's happening, tip me, then leave. It's as simple as that. Then some are rich, spoiled little brats. They act like they're top tier just because they grew up with loving parents and that dad loved them enough to stay, yet you spend his money at 15. I've had a few women come in with their boyfriend; all she does is spend his money on the drinks here. Those women stare at me to her heart's content.

I'll be honest though...some of those men are pretty attractive, I won't lie. Men that have dark and sleek black hair, maybe a tuxedo on, and that deep voice. That's just the tip of the iceberg I look for in men. The most important thing in anybody is their personality. What I mean by personality is that he loves you for who you are and how your body looks as it is. You wouldn't want your man telling you to wear sweatpants because your thighs look fat, or wear a hoodie to hide your stomach. I can't change my body. Sure, eat healthy food and exercise, yeah, but, my body was made differently. Even if I do exercise and eat healthy, I'll only drop a few pounds...

It's hard to find both a good-looking man with an even more attractive personality.

So that brat can stare all me all she wants.

I put the end of the pen to my lip, trying to think of more to write. That is until I hear a familiar-sounding voice.

"Hey, girl!" It's Elizabeth. She goes by hundreds of nicknames, like Elizabeth, Liz, and Lizzy, but she prefers to be called Lizzy by only me for some reason. I call her any name every now and then, she doesn't mind.

She's one of the friends I made during my sophomore year. And, actually, the only friend that stuck with me.

Lizzy and I have matching messenger bags. She took multiple elective classes during her high school life and instead of trophies given out to the members, they gave out little button badges. Like the badges you'd get if you were a Girl Scout. Lizzy has kept those badges safe ever since and she finally decided to use them to decorate her bag.