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Spending the Night: an Imaginary Situation

January 21, 2012

Time for the ritualistic burning of your sheets again.

You will never really have planned for it to end this way but, even so, you might have shoved your dirty knickers under the bed as you left for the office. But the dirty dishes and dusty windowsill and hairy plughole? You leave those be: to tidy would be to jinx. There’s a lot to be said for holiday romances, you think, afterwards. For one, you are rarely responsible for the cleanliness of the location where the Night is Spent. For two, it is a contained experience. The tequila sunrises, the cockroaches, the Night Spent: they all belong to that fortnight in Faliraki, forever. But here, at home, you have let him into your life and he has stained everything with his presence. Look: there’s your favourite after-work bar, that you were asked to leave for inappropriate behaviour. Over there, the tube station where he undid your belt without you noticing. In your kitchen, your fridge, the very one he pressed you against when you went to get a glass of water and he just couldn’t wait. And your bed. Your actual bed that you live in. He was there, asleep, in real life. The first thing you did when you got in the next day was press your face into his pillow, just in case it had trapped any of his scent. It hadn’t. Is your life over? Probably.

Verdict: RoT thinks that normal humans are very strange, putting themselves through this. One to avoid, thanks.


One Comment leave one →
  1. September 10, 2012 6:57 am

    This is verging on the poetic RoT

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