It's been a tough year. I'm doing well, but it's not easy being a single parent. I'm tired a lot of the time. I'm lonely some of the time. And I have needs. And not just for a cleaner or maid or personal chef (though I seriously could use one of those).
I have needs. Other kinds of needs.
Well, last night marked a turning point for me.
Some of those needs were met for the first time.
It started with a phone call. My friend Mike telephoned the United States, and asked if I was free to take someone out for drinks.
"Why would I take them out?" I asked, "when I can drink at home perfectly well?"
"Bring him home then," he said. "I'm sure he won't mind. He just wants a bit of company while he's in town."
"Who is he?" I asked, and wondered whether I needed to change out of my Uggs.
"He's an actor. He's Australian, but he's lived in LA for a while now. You actually met him briefly when you were here last. I'm not sure if you remember, but you liked him a lot."
I thought for a moment. I was pretty shattered. I'd had a long, hard day, blogging and doing laundry and trying to get Penny the cat to take her worm pill. But then I figured: I've been a bit of a hermit lately, so I should probably make an effort.
I called Gab the Wonder Babysitter, changed from my Uggs into boots, and whacked on some lippy. For a minute I considered changing from my tracksuit pants into jeans, but I didn't know the guy, and it seemed like a lot of effort.
"What's his name?" I asked Mike.
"Soren," he said, but the line was a bit crackly.
Not very Aussie, I thought. He must be Swedish.
I drove in to the city to where Soren was staying in a hotel, and parked my car in the parking lot. The rates were exorbitant, and I worried a little. I really can't afford $80 for parking right now. Most websites only pay about $50 per blog post. But I couldn't cancel at the last moment. And besides, I didn't have Soren's number.
I walked into the lobby and checked my face briefly in the mirror. I looked okay. My hair was clean, there was no food on my top, and I didn't have lipstick on my teeth. I had the winning trifecta.
I was nervous, because I hadn't been out in so long, and also because I realised I hadn't washed my trakky pants in about a month. But I proceeded to the bar, because a promise is a promise.
The bar was empty, but for a blonde guy drinking beer. He was gently tapping his credit card on the counter. I noticed that it was from ANZ.
"Soren?" I asked. He had nice thick hair. Most Swedish men do.
He turned around. "Simon," he said, and leaned in to give me a kiss. "Don't you remember?"
It took me a second to place him, and then suddenly it hit me. "Simon! Of course! Simon Baker! How are you?"
He took me in his arms. "Let's skip the small talk, shall we?" he murmured into my ear. "I've been waiting for this for a long, long time. Shall we go straight up to my room?"
I started to agree and then remembered that I hadn't shaved my legs in six months.
Simon placed a finger on my lips.
"No excuses. Just love."
He picked me up, carried me to the lift, and then up to the Penthouse where he gently undressed me. The last thing I remember before the waves of bliss rolled over me was the look of delight as he pulled down my trakky pants.
"Hairy legs! Oh yes! My favourite!"
It was, indeed, a night to remember.
Disclaimer: This post is entirely fictional. But fun, huh?