Reason 9 – because sometimes you only want them for one night, and they can’t even give you that

After being the recipient of surely the most, heartless, unceremonious dumping technique ever invented by cruel mankind (text-tastic Reason 8), I set off on a mission. To get as hideously drunk as possible, and to do so in as short a time as possible. My good friend chardonnay assisted in this task as well as a few trustworthy girlfriends who assured me not to worry about my ex, Steve. After all, they reasoned, Steve was a good-for-nothing-nobody who would be regretting his decision in the very near future (NB: He didn’t, a friend told me he shacked up with the next woman he met and as far as I know, they are still together, but cè la vie). Besides, they reminded me, I was an empowered independent woman who could do a whole lot better. 

A whole lot better turned out to be just over on the other side of the bar, and so, aided wholly with Dutch courage (in this case in the form of nastily cheap house white wine) I grinned coyly, until he approached to introduce himself. His names was Steve, and while one may assume that I would have laughed ironically and turned on my wobbly heel at the very point his name slipped past his lips, I didn’t. No, actually I spoke to him for about a good ew hours, before he suggested we “go back to mine for coffee”. And he meant mine, not his. And I know he didn’t really mean coffee. But, having just painfully finished (or had finished) an eighteen month relationship, and having never experienced a “one-night stand” before at the age of 34, AND having three girl friends nod and wink surreptitiously as I gave them a querulous look, I agreed. And we left. Back to mine.

And so it goes. Steve and I were kissing at the door, my blood and the wine that accompanied it was racing and sure enough, surprise, surprise, we ended up in bed, making mad, passionate, drunken love. He was an energetic lover, and the fifteen or so minutes he lasted were sweaty, sexy and somewhat satisfying. Afterwards, as I lay back contemplating whether this was the best I was going to get from here on in, Reason 9 leaned over and whispered gently into my ear, “just so you know, I can’t stay tonight”.

I sat up on one elbow, looked into his eyes and asked, “why not?”

“I have to get home,” he whispered, “my wife needs the car to take the kids to Sunday school in the morning.”            

Nonetheless, Reason 9, has put me off of men of the name Steve for eternity, although the sight of him naked, with all of his clothes in his arms or on the floor of the elevator around him as he begged to be let back in to the house to at least get dressed was memorable… and rather sobering.