Trying to numb the regret.

From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (CHAPTER 7: FRIDAY NIGHT CUTS)

I’m sitting on Ireland’s balcony. We’re smoking a joint to help me numb my feelings of regret. It’s eleven. Mr. Smyth dropped me off at my house half an hour ago; even though—after being made to look like a complete two-timing whore—I puked out a flurry of apologies for what happened and how it wasn’t what it looked like. Mr. Smyth told me not to worry about it. But our moment was lost. We finished our drinks and left.
     
“He told me to call him when my schedule opened up a bit more.” I suck hard on the joint, devastated.
     
Ireland inspects the red polish she’s applying to her toenails. “If I had access to someone who looked like Ben and wanted to have sex with me, I’d be over there right now. Forget the old guy.”
     
“He’s not old! He’s sexy.”
     
And that’s when I finally relinquish what I’ve honestly felt since the first time I had sex with Ben: that I don’t think Ben is right for me—not even as a fuck buddy. Mr. Smyth is much more my type, which is why I’m kicking myself for ruining my perfect Friday night date with him.

     
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