
I didn’t go out tonight and I’m not missing being trampled by people on the crowded dance floor and having some guy’s gin-soaked breath in my face at all
Lying on your old bed in your old bedroom at your parents’ house. You had an early shower and are now dressed in a plaid sleep shirt and daggy socks. Your hair is freshly washed and somehow you feel like a virgin again. That’s how sweet smelling you feel. The walls are still pink. He messaged you a couple of hours ago. You are on Facebook. You chat to one of your art-school friends about the photography book you want to create with her. It’ll have to feature your ‘pretty-redhead-we-are-unsure-if she-is-on-coke-and-we-don’t-think-it-is-appropriate-to-ask-her’ friend and lots of ‘indie-girl-in-underwear’ photos. You think about msg-ing back whilst you lay there, holding your pee. You start listening to Liz Phair, you think about smoking but don’t. You would hate for your parents to see you, cigarette in hand. You drink some milk. You eat some cookies. You wonder what everyone is doing tonight. You realise you don’t particularly care. Then you think about msg-ing him back. And suddenly you realise you are waiting for him to get slightly drunk, because you know he went out to the pub with his mates tonight. And that he is your ex. It’s probably best to just ignore him. But why is it that everyone is more interesting while they are intoxicated, including you?







