The sight of 2 girls was unfortunate, really.
When the streets of Melbourne were littered with:
(A) couples - some coy; others awkwardly aware of the cliched lameness of such pathetic effeteness.
(B) packs of single blokes - adamant to dismiss celebrated duality with lewd talk, lots of beer, and pats of each others' backs.
(C) troupes of black-clad Sex-in-the-City girls - embarrassed by the absence of duality in their own lives, and eager to camouflage it with killer heels, champagne, and dirty talk.

I wore my yellow dress, the one which falls gently off the shoulder.
The incredibly muggy evening made me twirl the hair into scrolls.
The previous night's excesses still churning in my stomach, keeping my lips a flat line, eyes dull.
I struggled to remember the conversations and responses as I walked down the recently familiar alley.
I was not well.
Allowed only one (happy) drink, I juggled green tea, warm water, cranberry juice, and coherent thought.
Of course questions about my aloneness (female company doesn't count, apparently), and current state of wellbeing, were hurled, with gentle snideness.

The night before I
Laughed happily enough to light a dozen light bulbs;
Wore a mauve vicose-blend dress;
Marvelled at the three/six degress of separation;
Tossed someone's phone number into the ashtray;
Was accused of being a blonde in disguise;
Walked to the car as the street cleaner drove noisily past, the first birds waking.

I hope you had a good one too.
xxgeniexx