Falling in love is so uncool

The next thing I knew was that a shrill, monotone and terribly insisting noise was trying to spilt my skull open and that the light that filled the room hurt my eyes when I finally managed to open them. I sat up in bed, heart hammering in my chest, trying to get everything back into perspective. That blasted noise came from the telephone. I was in some hotel room. I had a terrible hang-over. I reached for the phone and uselessly said: “Hello?”
It was just the automatic wake up call, informing me that it was now 10.15 a.m. I sighed and hung up and let myself fall back into the pillows. The pain between my temples throbbed when I moved, I felt a little queasy and figured it would be one of those days where I would skip the toast at breakfast and simply go for V8 and Alka-Seltzer. I tried to roll over on my belly but winced as all my muscles seemed to protest. I felt groggy and exhausted as if I had been jogging for too long. Joints stiff, muscles sore.
God damn it, what had I been doing last night? Then it hit me. All of it came back in a moment of violent clarity. I sat up sharply and glanced around. The bed was empty; there was no sound in the room apart from my ragged breathing. Ignoring both my splitting headache and my turning stomach, I jumped out of bed and rushed over to the bathroom. I yanked the door open but it was dark in there and there was nobody inside.
I turned to the living room area but it was deserted as well. I looked everywhere but found no note, no indication that he had even been there. With shaking hands I picked up the phone on the desk and asked the woman at the reception if anybody had left a message for me. She informed me very politely that that was not the case. When I put the receiver down, I was trembling all over. The room span around me and for a second I feared I would faint. I felt so terrible.
Tom had gone, he had left and there was no reminder of him. No goodbye, no note, no way to keep in touch. Nothing! Absolutely nothing. After all that had happened I was left with empty hands once more. I stumbled over to the sofa and sat down, ignoring the fact that I was still naked. I drew up my knees and wrapped my arms around my legs, resting my head against my knees.
I made an effort to see reason. What had I been thinking? I did not know this bloke and I had taken him up to my hotel room and we had had sex. It had meant nothing. It had never been meant to mean anything. Nothing. Just sex.
I had acted the part of the horny pop star and I had found my groupie and now the show was over and he was gone. But that’s what you do; you don’t hang around after the curtain fell. Then why did I fell so awful? So empty? So lonely?
I hardly noticed that tears that were running down my cheeks as I sat there, thinking about Tom and that now my life would never be the same as before that encounter. Because I would think of him. Because I would miss him. Because I feared I felt something that I was not supposed to be feeling for a one-night-stand.
I heard noises in the hallway outside. It sounded as if a chambermaid was pushing the trolley with the fresh bed linen down the corridor and had just stopped next door.
I shook myself out of my reverie and got up. I swallowed hard and angrily wiped at my tears. It was so useless to cry over him, over some chance acquaintance which had not been meant to last in the first place. Defiantly I squared my shoulders and held my head high as I walked over to the bathroom. I took a shower and forced myself not to picture Tom’s naked body in the cabin with me.
Everything I did that morning after that was calculated and efficient. I was not wasting time pining over that American boy. I got dressed. Fresh jeans, a white shirt, tie and blazer. Dark sunglasses to complete the picture.
I was not a mess. At least I did not look a mess. I packed up my stuff and went downstairs to the restaurant where I found Dainton and a bunch of dancers eating a very big breakfast. At home we would have called it ‘The full Monty’. I saw piles of toast and scrambled eggs, sausages and pancakes and fried bacon. My stomach threatened to turn over as the smells assaulted me. I sank into an empty seat next to our bodyguard and he shifted his attention from his meal to me for a second.
“Rough night?” He inquired as I refused to take down my sunglasses. I nodded.
“Splitting headache,” I muttered and after he gave me a searching look, he returned to his eggs and left me to my own dark thoughts. I ordered a glass of V8 and some Alka-Seltzer and settled down to read the paper. Just act normal, I kept telling myself.
Nevertheless I was on edge the whole morning. I hoped that Tom would materialize out of nowhere, that at least there would be a proper goodbye. When we checked out, I kept glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him rushing in. When we were being driven to the airport, I kept looking outside, hoping to see his car following behind. After we had checked in at the airport, I delayed boarding as long as I could, still hoping to catch a glimpse of him before I left. But nothing.
And now I am here, on anther continent, waiting for yet another day to end. I still think of him all the time and because of that I don’t want to go to bed. In my dreams I relive that one night I had with him over and over, only to find him gone the next morning again. The mind can play cruel tricks on you but the worst is that in your dreams you can not escape the truth, even though you can try to ignore it while you are awake. The truth I am trying to deny is that I fell for him during that night. Possibly back in that parking lot when he asked if I was okay. That I could be so god damn stupid to fall for a guy I hardly knew. For a one-night-stand. For a fan. A groupie. That despite of all this I just want to wake up with him. That I can not forget him. That I keep asking myself if I will ever be able to forget him.