Fake Lesbians and Real Martinis

The media party was fairly lame in the end but A and I were up for debauchery. At the time it seemed like a great idea to guzzle free wine by the bucketload in between doing kamikaze shots. It seemed like a good idea for A to give me a lap dance while several leering men filmed us on their mobiles. It seemed like a terrific idea for us to dance with each other in such a shockingly provocative fashion even I had to double check I hadn't suddenly become a lesbian. It seemed a brilliant idea to grab random blokes and force them to dance with us for ages. It seemed really clever to take one of the random blokes up on his offer of going onto Soho House for XO Martinis. It seemed the right thing to do when I found myself piling into a taxi at 3am with one of these random blokes, going home and shagging him stupid.

I was late for work this morning and still drunk when I arrived. This was because my alarm genuinely didn't go off so I massively overslept and when I did try to get up, random bloke - N - firmly pulled me back into bed and proceeded to spend twenty minutes giving me a terrifically enthusiastic seeing to. I have discovered that my legs are covered in bruises but I think that's down to A's platforms kicking me in the shins when she was straddling me as opposed to vigorous sex.
I quite liked the bloke which is always nice to discover when you wake up next to them. He was handsome and had a fantastic body and was also northern so when he talked dirty it sounded really dirty. Sweetly, he's texted me a couple of times today and I've replied. He's going travelling in a couple of weeks but I've told him that if he wants to meet up again before he leaves I'd be up for it. Just to be able to take my time with him while sober - I have a feeling I'd enjoy it a lot more if the room wasn't spinning and I was on the verge of throwing up.
Fortunately rather than be cross with me this morning, my boss teased me and lent me eye drops. Everyone now knows about mine and A's debauched behaviour and have been ragging me all day. Apparently at one point I was taking off a man's shirt on the dancefloor but I really don't remember that.

J has said he may stop over this evening on his way to the airport just to have sex (what else?). Part of me would love to see him but another part doesn't want to for two reasons. Firstly I feel horrendous and not remotely sexy, plus am covered in common-looking bruises and secondly I worry that if I end up spending time with him and kissing him bon voyage at the door I may really start to yearn and I don't need that in my head. I think the mental disassociation is working because after sleeping with someone else I don't feel remotely guilty or like I've cheated in any way at all. If I really thought there was any sort of relationship here I daresay it would be eating away at me. Honestly, sometimes I think I might be turning into a man.