The Worst Shower

I fall into a routine of landing at the place of whatever guy de jour I am banging that night and start chugging vodka in my car once I’m safely landed, so I’m ready to get down immediately, which, almost all of them want. The revolving door would swing around at approximately 5:00 A.M. most mornings, with me on my way back home before my Mom, and brother, who is also living at home, even woke up.

“See Mom?” I tell myself, “No need to be concerned. It’s like I never even fucked a stranger while totally drunk at all.”

But just like my days centered around making sure I had enough hard alcohol around, they also began to co-revolve around finding someone to keep me out of my own bed at night, thus Tinder, and now this ginger.

My affair with alcohol is now connected to sex. I was now full-on day drinking and needed to get messed up with alcohol in order to sleep with all these strangers I didn’t know.

As I realize I’m getting sloppier on the Supreme Uber ride or whatever it is, I am becoming best friends with the driver.

We’re talking about life and I agree with everything he’s saying, enthusiastically. I wonder if he sees that the longer I’m in the car, the more excited I get. Am I slurring my words right now? Does he notice? He’s a very wise religious family man of a different faith than me but with the same tenants and values. Ironically, I am not able to understand that I am absolutely violating my own values at this very moment. I am too far gone. I am in the part of a Blackout during which I can only remember flashes of points in time; I can no longer recall what I am saying from minute to minute. Am I even making sense?

Unfortunately, my driver is stuck driving drunken me from central New Jersey to bumblefuck Pennsylvania on a Sunday evening. I wish he could be with his family instead of me.

Before I know it I’m at the ginger’s place and I grab my overnight bag and my purse and my “water” bottle and thank the driver.

I greet the ginger with bubbles in my voice. I find it always makes the first moments of what is clearly a one-night stand, minus my repeat customers of course, the least awkward. He parrots my cheery demeanor and leads me inside. He lives on the third floor of a very clutch apartment building. He gives me my unnecessary tour, which is never something I need on these “dates,” yet most people do it anyway. We both know that I’m only here to have sex with him.

He shows me the bedroom last, and I put my bags down. I tell him I’m going to take a shower because the drive was so long, and he nods. He gets me a towel and shows me how to work the silver nobs for hot and cold water. I thank him, adjust the temperature and after taking off my clothes step in. I check out his layout of shampoos, conditioners, and soap to see what I can work with. Grabbing a bottle, I open it and smell it, approve of the scent, and lather up.

As I am just beginning to rinse the shampoo out of my hair, I hear something but don’t turn, not wanting to get soap in my eyes. I find out immediately anyway as the ginger touches my ass, having entered the shower from its back end.

“Are you joining me?” I ask playfully.

“Nope,” is all he says, as this very sizeable man shoves himself inside me while I’m still facing the shower water.

“Oh,” is all I say. I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t like this. But the only thing I can seem to focus on, I mean really focus on, is how uncomfortable the soap feels burning my eyes. I’m so disassociated from what is happening that I try to continue my shower while the ginger is thrusting in and out of me. Really wanting the rest of the shampoo off me, I wish the ginger would hurry up and finish already.

            My behavior may seem bizarre considering everything, and I wouldn’t disagree with anyone who categorized it that way. But I am so numb. My mind is numb from the alcohol, my emotions are not my normal emotions because of the alcohol, and my body isn’t really my body because of the alcohol. So, what is happening to me at this moment, isn’t really happening to me, it’s happening to the drunk person who has taken over my body.

            Sober Autumn would never let a stranger fuck her without a condom. Sober Autumn is responsible enough to take a prophylactic prescribed by her RN half an hour before sex to help prevent getting a UTI. Sober Autumn would say something to someone who is doing something that is hurting her. Sober Autumn wouldn’t have ridden in another stranger’s car, no, not even an Uber, just to get literally taken from behind within ten minutes of arriving at someone’s apartment. Sober Autumn would never even give this stranger her address. Sober Autumn is not nearly that desperate for sex. Sober Autumn might even have slapped him. Sober Autumn would not be bent over like the number 7 with red eyes and a ginger halfway attached to her. But I haven’t been sober Autumn all day, and I most certainly wasn’t sober Autumn at that moment. 

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