The two most romantic moments in Birdies life both happened on one night stands.

There’s something about a one night fling that has the potential to make the sex so much better than with someone you fuck on a regular basis.

When everything works well, there is an all consuming need to impress, to make the most of the one and only opportunity you have with this person.

Even at her drunkest Birdie performs her best when she knows there’s a very large chance she will never see the boy again. She can honestly say that on occasion she has received more love in one night than she has during an entire relationship.

A one nighter is never about ‘making love’ its about fucking, as hard and as fast and as good as you possibly can. Although one might get laid on a regular basis, there’s a certain kind of energy that gets put aside and bottled up, only released during such an encounter.

There’s rules with one nighters. Every girl has a slightly different set. Birdie believes that no last names should be exchanged. No numbers. No befriending on facebook in the days afterwards. The relationship is contained to and exists only within that night. She doesn’t want to know what bought you both together, or what you will do once you depart. You meet as strangers and you leave as strangers.

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Ginger and Birdie had an outing on Friday night. It was a reunion of sorts as neither of them had been out together for a month or longer and it was a club that had been on hiatus for some months.

The pair decided in order to save money they would have pre-drinks at Chateu Ginger before heading out. Ginger has been working out lately, and soon will require a license for her guns - Ginger is going to be a Buff Momma. Now Ginger is a lightweight at the best of times and no food plus a change in her muscle mass meant her alcohol wasn’t quite metabolizing like it should.

As a result Gingers flatmate had to escort her home and tuck her into bed at 11:30. Not before she had managed to send a text message to someone saying “come out. get laid”.

Birdie chose to keep on partying. She doesn’t have many clear memories of the night, only vague snapshots and a few out of context conversations. She declined offers to go home with a few men, one of whom threatened her with “i’ll go find another girl” to which Birdie responded “I’ll help you find one” this he did not like and he left alone. She also remembers using “a kiss is not a contract” in context in conversation.

Birdie woke up in the morning with a very swollen and bruised hand. She thinks she may have punched something, and hopes it wasn’t someone.

A good night was had all round. The girls think anyway.

Birdie had an awkward moment the other day. After a long day at work, she got on a packed train and made a beeline for the nearest empty seat. Upon sitting down she promptly drifted off to sleep. Upon waking up she felt the glare of the person on the seat next to her. Glancing sideways she was horrified to find herself sitting next to a boy she had a one night stand with a year or so ago, whose calls or texts she never returned (not only was he terrible in the sack but his personality bored her to tears, he was just rather good looking but we all know, looks can be deceptive!).

“Hi Birdie” he said in a tone that was bordering condescending

“ah, Hello” Birdie replied…(we won’t use a name but for the record she did remember it)

Luckily Birdie managed to wake up just before her station so she got up and as she did he said “you didn’t return my calls, that’s never happened before”.

“Sorry” Birdie said as she collected her bags and walked as fast as she could up the stairs to the door.

Turns out he still lives a few streets away from her, and parks in the same commuter car park. There is nothing poetic about this encounter. It was just awkward.

It was just dancing.

Two people, moving in time to the music. 

If that’s all it was, why did Birdie feel like she was doing something wrong?

 The boy kissed her forehead, she pulled away slightly, she was intoxicated and he was intoxicating. Her heart beat a little faster and she felt her body temperature rise. Birdie knew the right thing to do would be to step back and walk over to the table where her things were, pick up her bag and walk the few short blocks home.

 She couldn’t tear herself away from him. He looked into her eyes, and she felt his sadness and no matter how much she tried to convince herself it was an act, she couldn’t she knew it wasn’t.

 He kissed her again, this time on the lips. She felt herself melt into his arms and she gave in. she tried to justify it to herself by saying she was single, she wasn’t the one getting married in a week or two, she shouldn’t have to be the responsible one. She was just a girl out to have a good time.

They left the bar, stopping in the alley way next door so he could have a cigarette. They made small talk while he was smoking, he tried to tell her things about himself but she didn’t want to hear them. What she was about to do was bad enough without getting caught by his back story. There was something about this boy that made Birdie want to care, he seemed so sad, so vulnerable and part of her wanted to know why he felt compelled to do what he was doing, to find out if he was more than just an asshole on his last fling like she suspected. She had to stop him from talking, so she kissed him again.

 He picked her up and pushed her up against the wall of the alley, under normal circumstances it would’ve been an incredibly romantic scene. The snow was falling gently and they stood in the shadows thrown from a light on the main street. They were locked together for what seemed like eternity when the mood was broken by a pair of drunks who were cat calling at the couple as they stumbled by.

Birdie put her feet to the ground and grabbed the bachelor by the hand, leading him back to her apartment…

 When she woke up the next morning he was holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. When she tried to disentangle herself from him he woke up and asked her where she was going. Just to the bathroom she said. He was like a child with a fear of abandonment. When she got back he pulled her in again, she winced, he had held her so tightly the night before her chest was bruised.  He kept saying he never wanted to let her go, he wanted to hold onto her for eternity.

 He rolled her over to face him, looked deep into her eyes and asked her if she would elope with him. Could they both just run away and start a new life together?

While the idea is the fantasy of many girls, it wasn’t a fantasy of Birdies. She said no, repeatedly, and told him that he needed to man up and face the consequences of his actions. They lay there for hours. In silence, breathing in unison.

 It was nightfall by the time he decided to leave, he pleaded with her one last time to consider eloping, she gave him her number and said if you ever decide to do the right thing you can call me.

 Birdie knew she would never hear from him again, while she believed his story and knew his sadness was genuine, she also knew he was gutless. Whatever he was she could no deny, that from one night with that man she experienced more passion and love than she had with anyone in her entire life. It may have been morally wrong, but it was the most emotionally and physically pure experience Birdie has ever had…

One night Birdie went out alone. It was Christmas Eve in Chicago.
When she stepped out of the lobby into the street she was hit by the cold wind blowing off Lake Michigan. She stood still on the corner and let it soak into her, stinging her face, penetrating her skin and layers of clothes until all the warmth in her body had been replaced by the cold and the damp.

It was the first time she had ventured outside since she got back to her apartment at 4am that morning. The boy she bought home had left around midday and Birdie spent the majority of the afternoon riding the porcelain bus. When she finally had the energy to crawl out of bed it was 8.30pm. Panda, her flatmate, had gone back home for the holidays but Birdie opted to stay back, preferring to ride it out alone, knowing she’d find some other Christmas orphans at a bar nearby and their company would be infinitely more satisfying than the pity of her friends relatives.

There was a lot of traffic, but there weren’t as many people on the street as Birdie expected. It seems people in this city weren’t last minute Christmas shoppers, or maybe the Christmas panic had already subsided while she was still dry retching over the toilet hours beforehand. She had only walked a block when the snow started falling, so lightly at first instead of touching the ground it was dancing about before her eyes and it felt as if she was walking through some kind of twilight zone. Then the harsh wind kicked in and the snowfall became less whimsical and more painful as the snowflakes collided into her face, stinging her eyes and skin yanking her out of the dreamy state she was in. The freezing night air was bringing a sense of clarity to her hung over brain she picked up the pace of her walk and marched the remaining five blocks to the market.

When Birdie entered the market she was hit by a wall of warmth, most people were sighing in relief at this break from the freeze outside but Birdie found it stifling. She grabbed a cart and unwound her scarf, shrugged off her jacket and pulled off her hoodie throwing them into the trolley. She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and started making her way through the aisles.

The pantry and fridge at home were bare. She had been out drinking almost every night for the past week and spent the days sleeping, and snacking on the already depleted food supply. Last night was officially a new low for Birdie, the only thing left in the cupboard was stale rice crackers and a tin of Tuna. She felt like she was eating cat food the entire time and could only stomach half the tin. The market closed at midnight so Birdie didn’t feel the need to take her time. Back in the post drinking daze she was wandering aimlessly around the aisles, ignoring most things on her shopping list and throwing anything into the cart that appealed to her, or that she felt might appeal to her in the near future.

By the time Birdie reached the checkout two hours had passed and her cart was full of things she didn’t really need. When she walked out into the street the cold wind slapped her in the face with such force she had to take a step back to regain her footing. The streets were empty and the snow was again gently falling from the sky, resting on her eyelashes. It was unusually quiet and she could hear the sound of her feet crunching the snow on the pavement. The fairy lights draped off the bare tree’s in Birdie’s street gave her the feeling that there was magic in the air and their twinkling gave her comfort that nothing sinister was waiting around the corner, not on Christmas eve.

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It’s a well known fact that Ginger likes to kiss boys. Luckily for Ginger boys also like to kiss her. The problem with kissing boys is sometimes when you frequent the same places, it all gets a little bit inbred and eventually you run out of boys who are worth making out with. This recently happened to Ginger.

There was an indie club that Ginger and Birdie would go to, it was on once a month and the pair would be there, owning the dance floor every single month.

It wasn’t just about owning the dancefloor, it was about the careful positioning of both themselves and their belongings in relation to the rest of the room. When selecting a spot to ‘own’ in a club you intend on attending regularly, there are many factors to take into consideration. Firstly there needs to be a safe place to put down your belongings so you don’t have to keep one eye on your bag at all times, secondly a view of the entrance is imperative to know who is coming and going, thirdly it needs to be near a fan or airconditioning vent - any kind of air is important. There should be a decent amount of space between this spot and the bar - the walk to the bar isn’t just about getting another drink it’s about strutting your stuff, mingling with people and in Ginger’s case, choosing a target for the night. The last thing to consider is the distance to the nearest wall, walls are important when you drink as you never quite know when an establishment is going to fall down and you need to save the day by propping up the wall…

Anyway, I digress.

Back to Ginger kissing boys.

The lesson that Ginger learned here, is to pay closer attention to who is hanging around the boys she kisses as she accidently made out with two flatmates. Not in one night, but over two months. The second flatmate was aware of this and found the entire situation highly amusing. Birdie found the fact that he tucked his polo shirt into his pants a whole lot more amusing than her friend kissing flatmates.

Ginger found the fact that Birdie accidently made out with their rather large, not quite so attractive, but extremely nice friend the funniest thing out of the entire situation. Birdie prefers not to discuss this incident.

Ginger & Birdie have been friends for quite some time now.

There’s been periods of time where they’ve gone years without seeing one another, not because they fell out, but because their lives simply went in different directions or they were in different parts of the world. However, when they see one another again they can pick up right where they left off.

The two girls have adventures. Many adventures. Sometimes they’re funny. Often they’re epic. Always they’re awesome.

This blog is the story of the adventures of Ginger, Birdie and their buddies - also known as the party posse.