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“It is an infantile superstition of the human spirit that virginity would be thought a virtue and not the barrier that separates ignorance from knowledge”-
Voltaire

Dear Diary,

It is important, well…sometimes to learn to separate the ideal from high deals. Life has its own twisted sense of humour, but whether her audience understands her humour is left to the jurisdiction of the discerning. This, as an aside, quickly brings to mind the experience of one of my Uncles. Honestly, how would one explain his sudden and tragic demise, the very next week he won a lottery in the UK, winnings running into thousands of pounds.

“Life is a b****h”

“No no…My dear, don’t say that” he always said
“Life is a Beach, enjoy the beauty and swim in its ocean of opportunities” Yes. Those were his words”

So much for muchness. I hope he took his own advice as he swims and breaks bread with the dead!

Enough musing.

Dear D, it was my birthday party that fateful year. 2005.

I squinted. I felt a bit dizzy. I was so knackered. Yes, all this three peas in my pod. Rest, sweet rest, I would give up my most prized possession right now just to feel the warmth of your embrace.

These crazy after parties, you never quite easily get over them. They are the longest and the most unnecessary. All my friends are gone. My friends? More like all my sibling’s friends. As the celebrant I was successfully able to prevail on seven girls from my class at school to come celebrate with me…us. Ok, back to the point, It’s my birthday, Helloooo…I am the celebrant, so who the heck are all these people still celebrating? One another?

Oh! How could I have forgotten? There are always two celebrants at such occasions at my crib. The actual celebrant during the day, and my mum during the night. The after parties- my sweet mother’s stage. The kind she would never take a bow from however loud the ovation. There goes the hobnobbing of the crème de la crème. The exotic songs. The shiny beam of champagne flutes, held with those smooth hands, which hardly knew the harshness on the other side of the divide. Their fake empty smiles as they feign interest in me. The thought of it now, Dear D, makes me want to puke, but as I have chosen this path of cleansing my soul through you, continue I must.

As a rule of thumb, in the school of thought of my Dear Mother, it is expedient as the celebrant to hang around the guests and pretend you are interested in what they are interested in. Never mind if you are not. How else would she show you off and brag about your…well in my case, non-existent academic prowess!

The dizziness.

Now, I sure need some peace and quiet. I unnoticeably headed for the guest living room. It is closer to the patio, the venue of the show off. An idea I deemed perfecto! If mom, notices my absence at least she would be forgiving, I’m still hanging around, just not in the same exact location. Ha-ha! Now, edgily seated on the leather sofa, leg crossed, chest out, with my champagne glass quaintly held in between my fingers, the thought of going an extra mile occurred to me – switching on the TV. No way! I reminded my groggy alcohol soaked brain. That would be most uncourteous, mum would certainly re-affirm. I sipped…no, I gulped a mouthful from my drinking glass. God bless the brain behind the invention of alcohol, I mean, how on earth would someone like me survive such occasions. Perhaps it helps mum, just like me, to bottle up the anxieties of hanging around her fake friends and not lose her darn mind! Perhaps that is the spirit behind the spirit

“You alright” the voice, yes familiar
“I think so” I turned towards the voice. Ha-ha! Dad.
“Your mum has been looking everywhere for you”
“Hmm…” I replied.
“You not supposed to be drinking, Dad” I added.
“Did your mum pick this dress for you” he ignored.
“Debenhams…last summer yes” I sipped. This is odd. Strange even. Dad is on a certain medication, he shouldn’t be drinking.
“You not supposed to be drinking, Dad” I re-emphasised.

Holy gee, my head is so light right now. I hate drinking, but this particular week has seen me through a double tragedy. I found out my “crush” isn’t crushing on me. And then this…my make believe birthday. So? I have been downing double doses of this dry white wine.

Breath. It would all soon be over.

“Lead me to my room” dad’s voice broke into my thoughts. He sounds a bit nervous, but then, maybe it’s the wine coursing through my bloody judgement. I stood up, found a bit of balance. And led the way. Dad followed.

“Lead me to my room” what does that even mean. He is walking ok. I held the stair handrails. I’m so wasted right now, I would do anything for a power nap.

I fumbled with the door knob to my parent’s massive suite. A silly waste of space, my thoughts nudged. But then the entire mansion is a silly joke even. The cringing of the door snapped me out of my thoughts. I stood aside so Dad could go through. On a second thought, I moved away completely. My Dad is a big man.

“You are drunk”
“Yeah” I mumbled, fiddling with my fingers. Is this what being wasted on alcohol means?
“Here, go on now. Have a nap” he gestured towards the bed.
Noooo! I thought. Dad is going to take the fall for me. He wants me to power nap here so if mum finds me, he would cover up for me…awesome!

“Hmmm…Thanks, dad” I wobbled towards the dressing table and placed my wine glass on it. I flung my shoes off. Damn it! I’m so tipsy dizzy. I know I’d have a tell-off from dad later on, for drinking way much, but right now who gives a rat ass. The big comfy bed beckons and I’m so dying to cuddle up under the duvet and leave the present behind. Dad, Mum and my dead dog can work out the details later, but right here, right now…

Blackout!!!

Dear D. I’m not sure how long I was out for, I only remembered waking up hurting all over. I woke up in my room, not on my parent’s king size bed, but on my double size. Last night, the songs, the wines and dines, alongside the frivolities all seemed so far away. Just as we live through life not remembering much of the vivid details of our everyday thoughts and actions. There are some distinct experiences that we just can never easily forget, especially when the devil is in the details. Time and wine may reduce the memories to some faintest illusions, but we just can’t forget. Much of what happened last night, like my innocence was lost, but that which I needed to know was all I knew.

Like I said…My Dad is a big man!

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