Last Call, Last Resort Part 1

Slumped over in the front seat and slurring my words as after hours all nighter pursuits slowly fail into the mass melee that is me, stranded in this car and unattached, picking out which five boys to send the ungodly unsubtle 2am text message, “Wut r u up 2.” 

“Where are we going, Pilar?” I don’t remember who’s in the driver’s seat, or who’s in the back seat, but I’m in shotgun, and whoever is squished back there behind me, they’re making out which only adds to the rancor of my texting and the urgency of the situation.

“I don’t know, I’ll figure it out in a minute, just keep driving.” Everything feels fuzzy and blurry because there I am, drunk again, and after an evening’s worth of quippy conversation while leaning languidly over half sipped Manhattans, my unabashed propensity for finding anything willing and then fucking it has heretofore been unfulfilled. 

This isn’t vapid.

This isn’t vapid.

This isn’t vapid. 

I have self respect, and my need for sex like Prozac pills is a fool proof remedy for all that ails me. The touch of a stranger’s hand and then fuck the crazy out of me. I can feel my eyes sagging manically across the situation as I wait for the ding and the light of my phone to alert me that, yes, there is some nobody out there willing to put up with 45 minutes of heavy petting, intermittent conversation and sloppy, half hearted crotch thrusting before the self defeat of sleep and waking up in the morning feeling dirty and unwelcomed. 

Who will take the bait? 

“Pilar, we have to go somewhere, they’re all just going home.”

“Okay, fine, take me home!” I snap with the wrath of an unsatiated woman. Sink defiantly into my sleep, knowing that watching porn alone and passing out drunkenly with my panties around my ankles and my hands smelling like my own pussy isn’t going to make for a very happy Pilar come noon tomorrow, or whenever it is that I wrest myself from the arms of sleep. 

This isn’t an admission of defeat as I gaze out the window and glare at my blank phone. 6 people! I had texted 6 people! And none of them will take me? How have the odds stacked against me so cruelly?

Oh, wait, nevermind, “No, actually, can you take me back over that way?”

The fish has bitten. 3 minute response time. Not bad.

I just showed these bitches how it’s done.