How did it become a joke? It seems every weekend brunch all we joke about is where we left our dignity the night before. The girls and I laugh together while we recount the last night's escapades, piecing together the evening's adventures as if we were some great detectives solving a mystery. As if it were some huge triumph to figure out that we went from that party to this one and back to another and then some guy's room. Or was it an apartment? That's the part that usually gets a little hazy. The part where it starts though is always perfectly clear. And it always looks pretty much the same, with my girlfriends all egging each other on, each one made to be more aggressive than the last. Why do we even do that? What are we thinking? Is it some sick form of entertainment? Just so we can hear what kind of worse mess the other one got into last night? Maybe to feel better about our own decisions.


Regardless we laugh and point and snicker and roll our eyes. It's supposed to be fun, I guess. I'm not supposed to care. I know I'm not supposed to want him to call. I didn't even like him before last night. I don't know if I like him now. But I do sort of do wish he would call. Maybe ask me for coffee at least. Acknowledge my existence somehow. But I shouldn't. I'm not supposed to want more, but I think I do. I really do.


I certainly couldn't admit it to my friends, but this kind of hurts. What's wrong with me? Why can't I just hook up and be fine leaving it at that? All this liberation was supposed to be empowering - maybe somehow it is – but I'm really not feeling it. I actually feel weak. Helpless, even. I hate feeling like this. Walking around with this cloud of pain over my head. Being made to feel like I'm a crazy chick for wanting a guy I sleep with to actually care about me. More than anything I am tired of feeling guilty just for wanting more.


But why should I feel guilty? I'm a girl who knows what she wants – and there is nothing wrong with that. Why should I settle for less than what I want? And I don't want this. I don't want to be fodder for everyone's amusement on Sunday mornings. I don't want to keep going home with guys that I don't mean anything to…that don't mean anything to me.


Maybe I could get out of this. Do...something else. Be someone else. Be happy. Be…me.





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