So I got drunk. Really drunk. After a mimosa brunch and nothing to eat. At 12pm on Sunday I hadn't eaten in almost 48 hours, but I did manage to down about 6 mimosas. Then I headed to meet some friends. Who didn't know that David was history. Literally.
"Let's get you drunk," they said.
"I'm already drunk," I said.
"More drunk?" they asked.
"I like your thinking," I replied.
And so I proceeded to get drunk. Really drunk. Beer after beer after beer kinda drunk. And then I came up with the greatest idea ever....
"Let's go to Camelot!!!" I ordered.
It was my day after all. Who could deny me? This was better than a birthday.
So myself and a caravan of friends headed to the strip club.
We got a table in front and I started pounding Rum and cokes. Delicious misery.
The Math Teacher is a guy in my group of mutual friends who was with us this night. He teaches children math - so I consider him pretty harmless. And he looked tall and cute with his full head of hair. After David who is short and balding (but don't get me wrong still handsome give me some credit), tall and a full head of hair was exactly what I needed.
"You'll be okay," The Math Teacher said.
"What I need," I responded, "is to be a guy."
"Come again?" he countered.
"You know...how guys just start hooking up with another woman. Get over one person by getting under another. Why is it that girls pine away for seven months alone crying and weeping and feeling pathetic while guys just move on to the next piece of ass? It's not fair. I wanna post-breakup like a guy. I want to be with another guy as soon as possible. Just get it out of the way. Put another guy between me and David and start moving on. Now. What do you think?"
"What do you mean what do I think?"
Now for the record - I have never been this slutty in my life. Ever. But I was drunk. And I was sad. And I was determined.
"I think I wanna go home with you," I told him. "Really?" he said.
"Yes. But you have to do something for me..."
"I need to feel beautiful. And SEXY."
"But you are beautiful. And sexy," he seemed to answer honestly.
"Tell me I'm beautiful and sexy as many times as possible. And I won't regret it."
"Okay," he said staring sincerely back at me.
Now some of my friends have thought this whole thing was stupid and bad. And that The Math Teacher was taking advantage of me in my weakened state. But I wholeheartedly knew what I was doing. I'm a big girl. I'm 28. I knew what I was doing. And it was my idea and my decision.
The Math Teacher began grabbing my leg under the table. And holding my hands. And brushing my arm. None of my friends noticed at first. It felt soooo good to be touched by someone else. Anyone else. Other than...
And I did go home with him. And he did tell me I was beautiful. And sexy. Maybe a hundred times. And I felt beautiful. And sexy. That other men would want me. And I would want them.
In the morning I laughed thinking about it all again. Blushing to myself. I couldn't believe I had done that. That was sooo not me. And it was stupid and ridiculous and really not all that great. But it was kind of silly and liberating and shocking. And made me laugh. And three days after a break-up, a little self-confidence and a little laughter couldn't be so bad. It had made me sad, because it wasn't nearly as good as when I was with someone I was truly attracted to -inside and out-and someone I cared about- like him. I would rather have been with him. But it made me feel beautiful. And sexy. And wanted. And a tiny bit of the memory of him had been blurred a little further in the past.
Judge me if you will, but it is what it is. And I don't feel as bad about it, as maybe I should.