I wake up naked again, and before opening my eyes try to remember where I am. Then I start to piece the night together.
I recall who I'm with and turn to kiss him on the forehead - always the forehead in the morning. I sit up, then attempt to find my clothes in the spinning bachelor apartment. He greets me with a groggy "Good morning," to which I answer, "Hey." Walking home in party dress, high heels and raccoon eyes, I pretend no one is looking at me and do my best not to hang my head: I like my lifestyle, and the rest of the world is jealous. They're not having half as much sex as I am.
When there's a party full of people I know, I usually go alone. I stand at the bar and look bored in my red dress, high heels, red lips and essential cosmopolitan (cuz it goes with my red dress). I make idle chit-chat and pretend to care about the other person's vacation or cat or parents' cottage. I feel lonely when the groups of women toss their heads and laugh with each other.
I feel lonely when they do shots of tequila, and I feel lonely when I order my second and third requisite cosmo, and then my first rye and coke.
When I see him looking at me from across the room, I smile and turn my back. I go out for a smoke when I see that he's left the room, and ask him for a light. To get him to buy me a drink, I make sure I take the last sip of mine in front of him. "Sure, but you don't have to.... Okay, if you insist. Rye and coke, please."
Back inside, he buys my drink and tells a joke. I throw my head back and laugh. We do shots of tequila, and I don't feel lonely any more. He puts his hand on my back, and I don't feel lonely any more.
He whispers in my ear, and I smile and don't feel lonely any more.
Back at his place, we do shots of Jäger, and the red dress is on the floor. I tell him I have a condom in my purse, because I know they never have any. I fake a couple of orgasms and feel powerful. I've forgotten about feeling lonely by myself at the bar. He says, "Don't worry, you can crash here," and I feel like saying, "No shit, asshole. Did you think I was going home?"
I'm always safe, and I never do strangers. My friends, friends of my friends, siblings of my friends, friends of my siblings, my classmates, my co-workers, but never strangers. I always watch my drink, and I never do drugs. I don't smoke pot. People call me a slut, skank, sleazy, easy and other things they don't say to my face, I'm sure.
When I'm in a place and I've slept with more than three people in the room, I feel good, because I've seen them all naked, vulnerable and begging for just one more blow job. None of them know about each other, but they're all smiling knowing smiles at me.
At home at around noon, I take off the red dress and put on a men's T-shirt and climb into my own bed. I turn on the CBC and feel lonely. I turn off the CBC because it's making me think the world is too big, and I hear the noise of the street and I feel lonely. I think about my night and shake my head and feel lonely.
In those moments I was all of him, I was adored and admired. Now I'm afraid of the world and lonely. Every time it gets better, and every time it gets worse.