#good times

So my mother was calling me.
I was meant to be spending the day with her and my sister.
My mother had called it A Girls' Day Out.
It was midday.
I had got in at 6 30am.
God knows when my trade had left.
All that remained was a dribble of blood from a tooth I cracked and loosened when things got a little rough.
"I'll be about an hour" I said, in my best drag-queen-cum-phone-sex-worker-in-the-morning-voice.
"I've only just woken up, and I didn't get in until after 6"
Sound of slightly disapproving sigh.
"That's fine. We're at David Jones. We'll just walk down to Opera Bar".
I had missed the shopping component of the day.
At least I would be in time for the eating and drinking component.
Because what my body really needed at that point was more alcohol.
Really?
And I had some major obstacles to hurdle before getting there.
Like getting out bed.
Having a shower.
And putting together an outfit that felt loose fitting enough for my alcohol and food swollen body, while bringing colour to a sallow cheek, and looking appropriate for a civilised luncheon.
And that I felt sexy in.
Because you just never know.
I did manage to overcome these but not quite in the allotted time frame.
While preparing a response to the challenge: "Haven't you grown out of staying out all night?"
And it was lucky that I had because they asked it unison before my bum had even hit the seat.
And just so you understand the full impact of this, imagine a visual symphony of blonde hair, pearls, shopping bags, and concerned looks from behind sunglasses.
I was quite happy with my response: "I knew you'd ask me this, so I've prepared an answer: I've recently come to the conclusion that it's not necessarily something you grow out of, because it's just part of who I am, and what I enjoy doing."
"Oh well, as long as you're having a good time, then I suppose that's OK.
Would you like a glass of wine?"
Thanks Mum.
What I neglected to tell them was that so many of these nights start out as well intentioned low-key evenings.
But as the booze intake increases, my care about what the next day holds decreases.
In direct proportion.
And the enjoyment of friends augments into a false camaraderie with pretty much anyone you meet.
And that it's not long before you start looking at anybody as a possible sexual partner.
Tossing up between Mr Right and Mr Right Now.
And when the night is still relatively young you feel like there's hours up your sleeve.
But then before you know it it's almost 5am and the lights are about to come on.
And by then your options are limited.
As is your judgement.
Which does make it easier.
There's less competition.
The odds are in your favour.
Although the quality of talent may not be.
And at this stage you've given up looking for a husband.
And you're possibly not even up for the root.
But you'll be damned if your ego is gonna let you go home alone.
Even if it's just so you're seen getting in a cab with somebody else.
Or that the next morning your regular barista can raise an eyebrow and a smirk when you order an uncharacteristic two coffees.
All this in the name of a #goodtime.

#DNA Magazine

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