Just another one night stand...

The beep of my alarm clock, magnified to a scream by my splitting head ache, yanked me into the waking world. I rolled over in a bed that was too comfortable to be my own, and sat up. The room began to spin at a dizzying speed. A room that I had never seen before in my life. "Oh shit. Where the hell am I?" I thought. I racked my brain, but nothing came up.
Something moved in the corner of my eye and I slowly turned my head to see the lump of a male form under the covers beside me, his back in my direction. One word repeated itself again and again in my mind "Shit shit shit shit shit..."
I timidly lifted up the covers, praying to find myself dressed. My prayers were answered, although not completely. I was wearing a pair of boxers, obviously belonging to the person sleeping next to me, and the tank top I know I wore the day before. "What did I do last night??" I kept asking myself, but still nothing.
More movement on the other side of the bed. Again I slowly turned my head. This time, he was awake. He rolled over and looked at me, "Mornin'." said the very good-looking (thank god) stranger in a thick Australian accent and the night started flooding back in bits and peices...

I remembered getting fired. I remembered being so pissed off that I trudged back to the hostel from work, with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth (I don't smoke). I remembered crashing the door open and stomping into the lounge room "Anybody wanna come downstairs with me? Because I'm going to get pissed!!"
I remembered calling my ex-roomate who had called me earlier in the evening wondering if I wanted to go for drinks, and telling her to meet me downstairs. I remembered storming the bar and slamming back drink after drink and a couple shots (6 snake bites and 2 cock-sucking cowboys were consumed at the Walkabout and then three-quarters of a bottle of white wine at the Standard). It was at the Walkabout that my ex-roomate introduced me to her Australian co-worker, who was headed for Canada the next week. It was he who I went home with. It was he who's boxers I was wearing and it was he, who was now lying in bed next to me. I remembered while kissing him thinking "This is fun..." and then wishing it were someone else.
I could not remember though, how I got to his house. I couldn't remember walking, and I couldn't remember getting a cab. I looked out the window. "Where are we?" I asked him. The first words to escape my lips that morning. He told me the name of a street that I didn't recognise.
"I have to work in 45 minutes..."
Just then there was a noise on the other side of the room. "Holy shit. Top of the Morning to ya!! How did I miss that?" His roomate poked his head up from the floor where he obviously had fallen asleep. "Good lord" I muttered under my breath. "thank god I don't have to exlpain this one to my mother."
"so, what's your name?" the roomate asked. "No, wait. Mate, what's her name?" He asked the stranger. It was then brought to the light that neither of us could remember. It was also brought to my mind that I didn't care. I just wanted to leave.
I picked up my clothes off the floor and took them to the washroom to get changed. As I went to pull my pants on, a condom fell from the pile.
Still wrapped. Thank god.
"I have to work." I said again, this time more urgently as I walked back into his room.
I still had no idea where I was.
He had to walk me.
As I got into my work clothes back at the hostel, I ran my hand up my leg.
"Check this out," I had said to my friends the night before when compairing gams, "I'm testing the insulating qualities of leg hair. Cop a feel."
One thought came to me now as I pulled my shirt over my head. "Why do I always hook up when I haven't shaved my legs?"

Twitterpated

This last week has been one of confusion and twitterpatory (is that a word??). This week, I met someone. Yes, you may be saying to yourself, i do meet people everyday, but this time it was different. He was different.
I liked him.
A lot.
I met him through mates at the pub.
We went out.
We got drunk.
We conversed.
We found things in common.
We made out.
He said things to me that I would have laughed at coming from any other male's mouth but from him, were sweet.
Why is it that you say that sappy things make you want to puke, but then when the right person says them, you want to melt?
And what is it about all this that makes me scared?
When I do find someone that I like, and maybe, just possibly they like me back, I get scared that it's not real. Scared that it's just a show. Scared of rejection.
But I did/do really like him.
Then he left.
One day I accidentally stood him up at the movies and two days later he was on a flight back to Australia.
One week. That was all. But, one week can do and mean a lot I have learned.
One week can make or break someones life.
One second can do that.
One split second.
One second can do a lot more damage.
But I'd rather one week than one second.
Rather have had the experience than just a glance his way and a quick "He's cute." under my breath.
One week.
So, the Kiwi is in Australia, and Canada is here in England.
One week.
Maybe I'll see him again, maybe I won't.
But that one week was worth it.