I went up to the psych ward on Friday morning. Same old. LC is most worried about my financial situation. They all promised to help me with supporting evidence for my benefits claims. I am tired of filling out forms and waiting on hold on the phone only to remain penniless. I am tired.
Because I haven’t got any money and I’m spending every day looking after my dad, I haven’t been out drinking much. And so I haven’t been sleeping around or causing trouble either. My care team are pleased about this. But all their talk about my alcoholism only made me thirsty. So I went to collect my dad from the hospital he was at and took him to the pub. It was good for him to see some of his friends; everyone is desperately worried about him.
After a couple of hours someone drove my dad home and I was left to my own devices. So I thought of D. He lives a few doors down the street from me, in a beautiful house. He’s a top lawyer and is very handsome. I was knocking about with him in September. We slept together a few times. He said that he was falling in love with me and I laughed. Then we spoke about the future (in general) and we realised that there’s no point in pursuing anything more. I’m too young for him, and he’s too old for me. He’s 35 this year. I suggested that we remain friends and so we have; I haven’t seen him since September but we speak every few weeks or so, general chit-chat. So I was drunk and tired and thought I’d turn up on D’s doorstep and surprise him.
And he was pleased to see me. He made us G&Ts and we sat in bed and smoked and spoke about everything and anything- I don’t really remember what exactly, just life. We watched some film that I can’t remember the name of. All the while I know he was fighting the urge to kiss me. He cracked, of course. He fucked me senseless and we went to sleep. How nice, this morning, how nice to wake up in his big arms and hear only the rain on the window. I felt so safe, you have no idea. I wanted to stay there for ever. I can’t remember the last time I had morning sex. But he made love to me and it was magic. Then we just lay there, hungover, lazy, smoking, listening to the rain and our heartbeats. But, back in the real world, we both had things to do so I chucked some clothes on and left his house to do the 90 second Walk of Shame down the road to my mother’s place. For some reason, I doubt that will be the last time I walk from his to mine wearing no bra, last night’s makeup smudged under my eyes, barefoot, shoes in hand. I doubt it highly.