*read all of the chapters for Swipe Right – The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute in order here
I scrubbed a hand over my face not worrying about the makeup I didn’t put on that morning before work. My eyes were swollen and red and really, there was no amount of makeup that could cover up my hangover and broken dreams. Stepping out to grab some lunch, I decided it was going to be a good idea to Skype my mom and let her know the news. I had no reasons as to why this was a good idea, I just went with it. Fluffing my hair, like that would make a difference, I pressed call and waited for her to answer.
“Hey sweetheart! Oh lord, you look like shit, did you go to work like that?” If my mother was anything, it was honest.
I groaned. “Mom.”
“Are you okay? You look sick.”
“I’m not sick Mom, I’m sad.”
“Why are you sad?”
“Because I got dumped.”
“Oh honey. Don’t waste your tears on a boy who doesn’t deserve them.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means good riddance – he was a loser.” I raised my eyebrow as my grandmother who I lovingly referred to as Mimi, stepped behind my mom and told me her equally honest opinion.
“What the hell?” I asked, baffled that none of my feelings were spared in this traumatic time in my life. “Why am I just hearing this from you now?”
My mom sighed. “You needed to find your own path darling, onto bigger and better things- does this mean you’re finally moving home?” Even though she supported me in every aspect of my life, when I’d told my mom I was moving across the country, I knew she was devastated. For so long it had been me, my mom and Mimi and when I moved to chase after my boyfriend, I knew she quieted her concerns and refusals and let me follow my dreams. Even though I’d moved to San Francisco to be with Aaron, I’d found a job in my field that I liked, most of the time, an apartment that I loved and friends that I couldn’t imagine not seeing on the regular. Moving home would mean finding another job, moving back in with my mom and starting from the bottom all over again.
“Mom, I love it here, even if I came here for someone, I’m staying here for myself.”
Mimi rolled her eyes. “Was that from your latest fortune cookie?”
“You know for an old gal, you’re still quite spritely.” Her answer was the middle finger.
“Do you remember my friend Marg? She has a grandson who lives in San Francisco and he’s a very nice boy…”
I cut her off. “No thanks!” I refused to have my grandmother set me up on a date, just the thought of it was depressing. After waving and blowing kisses to my computer screen, I picked up my phone and sent a message to Jamie;
‘We’re going out – I need to dance.’
‘Yassss girl! I have the perfect outfit for you to wear tonight.’ I could only imagine…
Well, this was it, the turning point in my life where I where I officially turned from a lowly advertising admin to a high class street walker. Tugging at the too short skirt and the crop top that revealed way too much midriff, I could only hope I didn’t look as awkward as I felt. Letting the bravery of three shots of tequila take over, we walked right up to the bouncer and flashed a grin. He didn’t even bother to check our ID, he simply gave us a once over and thrust his thumb over his shoulder letting us past the growing line up. Alright, so maybe the outfit was doing something for me but my buzz was wearing off and the need to be mind-numbing drunk was of all importance.
I found myself on the dancefloor, the heavy beat of the music vibrating through me as I let myself just move. My inebriation was strong enough that I didn’t care what it looked like, I just wanted to move freely with the rhythm. I could have looked like a pig having a seizure for all I knew. Apparently the man at the bar who smiled at me as I motioned to the bartender for another didn’t think so. In fact, the man offered to buy me a drink. I smiled. He was a bit blurry, he could have had dark hair. I didn’t answer right away and while I took my time forming words, he’d already paid for the glass sitting in front of me.
“Thanks.” I smiled again, embarrassingly.
We talked for a bit – he asked questions, I answered – although to remember what those questions or answers were, I would have no idea. “What are you doing after?”
“After?” I asked. “After what?”
He laughed. “When you leave here.”
“Going home.” I tried not to show my confusion.
“Did you want to get out of here and go to my place?”
By this time Jamie had left the man she’d been dancing with and had come up beside me just as he’d asked his question. I turned to look at her, I’m sure my disbelief was written all over my face – sober me had a hard time hiding what she was thinking when she was sober, forget drunk Maddie.
Jamie smiled at him then grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face her. “You need to go with him.” Before I could protest she barrelled on. “Best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one and trust me honey, you need to get under that one. If you don’t I will.”
I was still unsure, I’d been in a relationship for so long that I’d never had the opportunity to just go home with some random guy. But hey, hashtag YOLO.
And here lies the third and final stage of a breakup – revenge. Some may say that forgiveness or acceptance or whatever other peaceful, hippie word they can come up with is the final stage but no matter how much time passes, it could be ten years and you could be totally and completely over this man, but the minute you find out you’re going to be seeing him, you damn well know you are going to be looking your best. A giant, look at what you are missing out on, biatch. Always.
*tomorrow – Chapter Three