Re-Boyfriend is going away for business Saturday morning. He’ll be gone for two and a half weeks, back for two days, then gone for another week.
In two and a half weeks I can:
- Become impossibly glowy, toned and healthy by going to the gym on a regular basis.
- Get uninterrupted, wonderful sleep.
- Buy complicated underwear for Re-Boyfriend’s return. (Although tube socks and messy hair seem to turn Re-Boyfriend on more than anything actually involving effort so perhaps “basic and girlish” should be substituted in for “complicated”).
- Clean my apartment.
- Read in bed.
- Lose weight due to the loss of my dinner partner and drinking buddy.
However, the last time Re-Boyfriend left town I had the same relaxing scenario in mind. Instead, I met men who paid for a very long vodka-fueled evening going from “cool” club to “cool” club while I flipped my hair around and tried to imply that I had a trust fund.
Not wanting to go home at 4am when all the bars closed, I followed a couple of new found friends to a strip club, where I stayed long enough to realize it didn’t serve alcohol. “Why would you want to come here if they don’t have alcohol?” I asked the man to my left, ignoring the bare stripper-ass in my face.
I walked home to my apartment, stopping along the way to buy cigarettes and tell the man behind the counter all about my strip club experience. “It was my first time!”
Once home I called Re-Boyfriend (approximate time: 6:00am) and told him about my night.
“Should I be worried?” he asked.
“Fuck you!” I told him, suddenly belligerent. “Why are you even awake? You should go to sleep.”
“I did go to sleep. I’m waking up. Why don’t you go to sleep?”
And that was when Re-Boyfriend was gone for just one weekend. Who knows what wonders two and a half weeks can hold.