A girl can prepare for many things.
She can ensure her sheets are clean, her pillows are plumped and her bedroom smells of vanilla insense.
She can wax her pudenda and shave her legs close, and make sure she has lickable sensual body cream smoothed onto all her nether regions.
She can wear a body hugging dress with a push-up bra and forget to wear any knickers, to ensure a smooth line of curvature along her body.
What she can't do, is be prepared to get her period one week early
, when she has a busy week of socialising and partying to do and have it happen when sunbathing on a beach, in a bikini.
The phrase 'for fucks sake!' was used, loudly.
The gnashing of my teeth, even louder.
And the banging of my fists onto the sand drew a lot of attention to myself.
I couldn't quite believe it, you see. Not only have I never
had a period a week early in my entire
life, but I actually planned
this trip to occur before
I menstruated, so that I might be free to party without the pain, swelling, exhaustion, and obvious inconvenience that a period would cause.
Gutted is not really the word. Fucking pissed off covers it: bleeding heavily is not really conducive to feeling sexy - especially in the 30 degree heat and 80% humidity - and I have been truly struggling the last few days, dosed up to my eyeballs on painkillers.
But, period aside, my time in New York has so far has been wonderful:
- I have met some wonderful people who have welcomed me with open arms.
- I have discovered that places exist where you get to see women snog, touch and rub each other whilst dancing and it's not in a strip club.
- Within 36 hours of being in New York, I had dates lined up with three different men; one of which was a guy I met on the subway. Men just do it differently here: I like it. Very much.
- I discovered a (free) live jazz club, and got fucking smashed on the best whisky sours on the entire planet.
- Bumping into Martin Scorsese filming his latest movie on the street was fun.
- The gloriously cold air conditioning on the subway means that as well as keeping cool, I can stare at all the female passengers' erect nipples.
Being in NY is like coming home for me; I've been visiting here on an annual basis, my whole life - all my oldest friends live here - I feel very loved.
Plus - for some reason I have never been able to figure out - I get hit on all the time
in this city, which is really nice: everyone likes to feel sexy and desirable, and in NY, I am (as one bloke put it) 'too damn hot to touch'.
At the time I thought he was referring to my long hair, frizzed up to twice its size with the oppressive humidity. But given that he was staring at my tits, and then scoped out the curve of my arse, I came to the conclusion that he was perhaps saying I had a sexy body.
And I had to agree with him, I was
But that was because I just got off the subway and my body was drenched in sweat.