Chapter 90

           

           AmIyoungandbeautiful?

           IthoughtIwasoldanddivorced.

           Icanbarelysleepatallthisnight,sounaccustomedtotheseoddhours,thedancemusicstillthrumminginmyhead,myhairsmellingofcigarettes,mystomachprotestingthealcohol.Idozeabit,thenwakeasthesuncomesup,justasIamaccustomedto.OnlythismorningIamnotrestedandIamnotatpeaceandI’minnoconditionwhatsoeverformeditation.WhyamIsoagitated?Ihadanicenight,didn’tI?Igottomeetsomeinterestingpeople,gottodressupanddancearound,hadflirtedwithsomemen…

           MEN.

           Theagitationgetsmorejaggedatthethoughtofthatword,turningintoaminorpanicassailment.Idon’tknowhowtodothisanymore.IusedtobethebiggestandboldestandmostshamelessofflirtswhenIwasinmyteensandtwenties.Iseemtorememberthatitwasoncefun,meetingsomeguy,spoolinghimintowardme,spooningouttheveiledinvitationsandtheprovocations,castingallcautionasideandlettingtheconsequencesspillhowtheywill.

           ButnowIamfeelingonlypanicanduncertainty.Istartblowingthewholeeveningupintosomethingmuchhugerthanitwas,imaginingmyselfgettinginvolvedwiththisWelshguywhohadn’tevengivenmeane-mailaddress.Icanseeallthewayintoourfuturealready,includingtheargumentsoverhissmokinghabit.Iwonderifgivingmyselftoamanagainwillruinmyjourney/writing/life,etc.Ontheotherhand-someromancewouldbenice.It’sbeenalong,drytime.(IrememberRichardfromTexasadvisingmeatonepoint,vis-a-vismylovelife,"Youneedadroughtbreaker,baby

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