I moved into Bettina’s loft in Brooklyn within less than a week. She also texted me later that week that she’d be gone for the next three months to take a break from her University in Holland and travel around in South America. I asked her about how she’s going to afford it and she informed me that she got a generous sum from her mother’s life insurance. I think it’s ridiculous that when someone you care about in your family dies, all it takes is a million dollars worth of life insurance check to make you temporarily forget about your sadness. Whatever Bettina’s purpose is, I hope she finds peace after her own mother’s death. After all, Suzanne Lessing, my psychologist, left her very little clue on why she took her own life by jumping in front of an incoming train. As with my day job in Midtown Manhattan, it’s okay I think. But to tell you the truth, I fucking hate it. Sometimes, I get exhausted of being told what to do. My world will be a much better place if I tell people what to do. And I’m still working on that fucking new novel. This is my last rodeo in the pursuit of writing ambition. Lately, I’ve been thinking of walking away from the all the random one night fucks that I’ve been engaging myself after all these years. What am I doing it for? It does give me a form of satisfaction but for how long? To most New Yorker, this may sound pathetic of just maybe the fact that I’m getting fucking old! Hell, I’m only 31! Jesus Christ never had a real career until he was 32. This kind of thinking makes me feel lost in the city of 8 million people. So I decided to go out on a random Friday night in an attempt to walk away from one night fucks. I ended up going to the Beauty Bar and ordered a mixed glass of vodka and redbull. After I finished my first glass, I ordered another one and the DJ started playing notable tracks from the 80’s, it started with BILLY IDOL, MADONNA, and AHA. I was already fuckin drunk and started dancing by myself. Then a dark haired girl, slender, tanned skin, late 20’s, she’s definitely from Spain. We caught each other’s eyes and I raised my glass of drink to her and just bumped it with her fist. And I was right she’s from Spain, from Madrid. She smiled and that gave me more confidence. I held her hand and pretended that we’re dancing to a 1920’s song, I then started to make out with her and then after that, she whispered to my right ear, that she’s married. I laughed at her. Then she pointed to the corner of the dance floor and there was a guy there who looks like the Spanish actor, Javier Bardem. By the way, her pretty face reminds me of Italian actress, Monica Bellucci. So her boyfriend walked over closer to us. I looked back at her with a furious face.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I asked.
“Oh relax, there’s nothing to be scared of, my husband just wants to say hello to you.” She replied with a smirk in her face.

Her husband comes over, probably in his mid-30’s, he was maliciously smiling at me. Deep inside I was freaking out but I played it cool. He then touched my face and kissed me in the lips. The girl from Spain then started laughing and clapped her hands. The room was spinning and I felt more drunk than earlier. I grabbed his face and kissed him on the forehead and walked out of the bar. They both gave me the notion or pretty much an invitation to have a threesome but for some reason, I just wasn’t into it. I unknowingly ended up at Solas bar on East 9th Street, it was like 2 or 2:30 in the morning. I could hear the EDM tracks playing from the dance floor in the backroom. The bouncer let me in not noticing how really drunk I was. I ordered a bottle of Stella Artois and started dancing alone again, then I noticed a ravishing beauty also dancing by herself. She was probably in her early twenties, porcelain skin, red wavy hair, green eyes. She looked like she walked out of a Vincent Van Gogh painting. She continued to stare at me and I looked at my back to make sure she wasn’t looking at anyone else. I looked at her and smiled a little bit. She then stopped dancing and nodded her head to me to follow her into the bathroom. I did. When we reached the bathroom, we both introduced each other’s names. Her name was Debbie. I know it sounds like a porn star’s name because there’s a popular porn movie back in the 70’s that was called “DEBBIE DOES DALLAS”. That night, her new movie is called “DEBBIE DOES LORENZO”.

“Lorenzo is lovely name. Are you Italian?” Debbie asked.
“No, I was born in Singapore.” I replied.

We passionately kissed each other while I ran my fingers through her soft, red hair. She gave me one of the most magnificent head I ever had, definitely a contender for the OSCARS. After we finished in the bathroom, we have to do the walk of shame on our way out. Just like myself, Debbie also went there alone. She also told me that she just broke up with her boyfriend of four years, that’s why she’s a wreck. I told her to stop saying that to herself. We exchanged numbers and immediately texted each other after parting our ways. The first text messages between us after it was awesome, she got me excited of seeing her again. She made me think that I could actually have a real relationship with someone beyond sexual contact. I set up a date for us like a fucking teenager. I have to say that I haven’t been excited since Hanna fucked me over five years ago. I reserved us a table at a nice restaurant in the Tribeca district. I arrived at the restaurant around 6:45 PM, since we both agreed to meet up at 7 PM. The minute the hostess led me to the table I reserved, I got a text message from Debbie. It said “I’M SORRY I CAN’T, I WORKED THINGS OUT WITH MY BOYFRIEND…” . I guess it’s just my fucking luck. Every time I try to take a relationship seriously, there’s always a rain of shit that happens. I replied to her text, “IT WAS NICE TO KNOW YOU, GOODBYE!”.
I then started to think to myself, what the fuck was I thinking?! Am I blinded by one night fucks?! I took this as a sign to take a break from every stranger and spend more time with myself instead. Anywho, life goes on!