I’m all for pretty girls getting drunk and making bad decisions at 2 am on a Saturday night
Tongue kissing, bodies pinned against the door, hot ***
To last no more than the night does.

The sun came up in the morning, yellow and bright
And me in her bathroom taking a ****
Thinking
And her still on her bed, awake, both hands on her forehead, eyes closed
Sinking.
What in the name of all that is holy had she done?

This was that same girl: the one who's always hated my guts,
Is repulsed by so much as someone mentioning my name
This was that same girl: buttoned up blouse and pressed trousers
Impeccable manners
Reserved demeanour
Innocent, sweet
What the hell had she just done?

I never liked her attitude
Never liked her friends
Never liked the way she looked at me,
Everything about her made me angry
Until the alcohol.
To me it was different girl
Different hair
Different lips, eyes
Different hips, stomach
Thighs,
Different everything.
To her it was simply a mistake.

In her bedroom I look around
A few pictures of some people I don’t know cut out from magazines and stuck on her walls
A couple of romance novels                                                              
A porcelain vase on her desk
With no flowers in it.
God knows I don’t belong here,
I really don’t.

The night before she'd told me she was bisexual
It just sort of slipped off her tongue,
I realised this when we got naked
Because she appeared gauche in front of my ****.
Kind of awkward but I didn’t mind,
All I wanted was to **** her
Hate **** her
All I wanted was for her to get on her knees
Me to hold her by her hair and ******* her
Into a coma.

Andrea Dworkin is turning in her grave right now,
She has ****** me to hell a thousand times
But I could care less,
I never felt such strong anger and deep pleasure at the same time,
It was glorious.
Just glorious.