I updated my status to read: headed out for a night on the town, it’s great to be young and single.  I had a feeling the night was going to be fun.  I text one boy, then two, to see who I could get to meet me out; I was in the mood to flirt.  One came out, one stayed home.   One is all I needed.

The bar was offering unlimited drinks for two hours for the low-low price of $20.  The challenge became getting your money’s worth and seeing how many drinks you could get in your two hour window.  I don’t remember how many I drank, but even this note translates to having been successful at the endeavor.   It was dark, loud and sardine-can crowded.  The floor was slick with spilled drinks, dashed hopes and napkins scrawled with blurry phone numbers.

There were two dozen people in our party but I only wanted to spend time with one.  I hung by his side, we talked, we laughed; I enjoyed his company.  Empty glass; another trip to the bar, fighting, apologizing and steadily worked my way to the front.  Full glass; balancing, slipping, apologizing, measurably worked my way back to the group.

I tugged at my dress in an effort to keep myself decent, but it really was useless since I left the apartment in a revealing outfit anyway.  My friend told me I should cover myself up…..doesn’t that defeat the purpose, I asked her?  My mood to flirt turned into the mood to kiss.  Target one: “I’m going to kiss you”.  And I did.  Target two: a hug and then no forewarning; kiss.   Target three: I don’t remember quite how that one happened…..that was a little further into the evening….(read: after a few more drinks).

My lips started to feel numb, a sign that I’d had too much to drink (as if finding myself unable to focus my eyes wasn’t sign enough).  The night was starting to wind down but I didn’t want to go home, wasn’t ready for it to be over.  My partners in crime and I left, went to hunt down another location, wound up at an old stand-by that has dancing in the basement.  It was sparsely populated and the DJ was playing Journey; possibly ironically in an effort to clear the room.  We were not deterred.  The boy and I danced; our friend watched and yawned.  We kept saying, “one more song!” and one more song turned into 6 or 7 or more songs later.  

Finally, “one more song” dissipated and failed to rally, the finality of the evening was undeniable.  I walked up the stairs, my hips swaying as I climbed.  We reached the outside, I kissed them each on the cheek, hailed a cab and off I went.  

I carefully clutched the railing and climbed the stairs to my friends apartment, crashing at his place because he lived a short $6 cab ride away.   In under 5 I had pulled my earrings, bracelets, ring, shoes and dress off and was in his bed sleeping.

I awoke, donned last night’s attire and left to face a Sunday morning in a Saturday night outfit.   Lessons learned: sometimes I just want to flirt, and kiss someone and dance.  Also.  What you wear on a Saturday night is NOT appropriate for a Sunday morning subway ride.  And yes, people WILL look at you and think, that girl never went home last night….

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