The girl I'd brought home the night before had left, sneaking away in the middle of the night. And, yes, it made me feel terrible. I hadn't anticipated anything more than a one-night encounter with her, but some breakfast - and perhaps even her name - would have been lovely. But then she sneaked off, leaving me alone in my bed, making me wonder if I'd imagined f*****g her in some complex masturbatory dream.
Except I knew it wasn't a dream. It was so fantastic, and I hadn't been screwed up enough to come up with anything like that.
She'd just slipped away in the middle of the night. I didn't blame her. It is generally difficult waking up and seeing your one-night stand in the eyes. Having a morning conversation? Perhaps too much to expect.
I took a pee and looked in the mirror, not pleas
