Jan. 1, 2020
Is it possible for your head to explode? I mean actually explode. I swear it’s going to happen any second from now and all Scarlett will find is my headless body holding some stupid pen lying in bed. After drinking for four years, I finally have my first hangover. Why I thought drinking eight martinis in four hours was a good idea, I’ll never know. I swear there should have been someone there to tell me it was stupid. Where was my fairy godmother last night on martini number six? Eight martinis might not seem like much to most people, but when you only drink one or two every six months, it’s a big deal.
This hangover is not even the worst of my problems. I have no idea how I feel about what I did last night. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol, but I went out looking for some fun and that is exactly what I found, but I didn’t expect it to go that way and I didn’t expect it to leave me feeling like this. Confused. Torn. I just barely remember getting home last night, alone as Scarlett was already off with some other girl. I took my dress and shoes off, and fell into bed, leaving my cum soaked thong on. Even now, it’s still on and I know I should be grossed out and scrubbing myself clean in the shower. But I don’t want to. Wearing it, even now, kinda makes me feel empowered in a way. And a little turned on. That’s the confusing part.
Everything that I was raised to believe about how a woman should act by my mother goes against everything I feel right now. I don’t feel like some dirty slut. I don’t feel like I’m going to spend the rest of my eternal life in Hell being poked by hot pokers. I feel empowered. Ok, there is a little bit of shame and embarrassment underneath all of that, but maybe that’s normal. I felt that way after the first time I had Scotty’s condom covered dick in my mouth. Perhaps that’s from my mother’s voice in my head constantly telling me how to act and what a proper lady is like.
If I think about this logically, what I did last night was really quite tame compared to what others would be doing. I didn’t have sex with him; I barely touched him. Hell, we didn’t even kiss. It really wasn’t that bad, and it did feel good.
Really good. Like I’m still turned on by it good. Maybe Scarlett is right ; perhaps I should be exploring my sexuality and seeing what is out there. Who could it really hurt? Ok well myself, but if I’m the only one being hurt by it, then that’s my own fault. It’s not like anything I decide to do wouldn’t be my decision. I’m a young woman, who is exploring her sexuality, that seems perfectly normal to me. It’s not like I’m going to start going to those sex clubs that Scarlett loves to go to. I’m just not going to shut myself out anymore. I’m not going to deny myself the opportunities that come up. I get asked out all the time at work, I’m not interested in dating, but maybe they aren’t either.
My whole life, I have been sheltered and told what to do and what not to do. Living a stuffy life where you had to have your body covered and no tight clothing. I always did what I was told and expected to do. But screw it. They don’t want to talk to me. They want to pretend like I don’t exist all because of one drunken mistake. A mistake they are blaming me for and not even him. Hattie still has pictures of them on her Facebook page. They are still getting married. I’m not invited anymore and, if Hattie knew I could still see her Facebook page, I’m sure I would be blocked from it. If she wants to marry a man that cheated on her, that’s her problem. I’m done living by their rules and expectations. It’s time I got to discover who I am and what my own expectations were. It’s time to live for me.
Assuming my head doesn’t explode.