CSI: The Morning After

You wake up smiling, a really broad grin on your face. Why? You have no recollection of any dreams. You have no recollection of last night from about the time you turned down another drink and said you really had to be going home. Yup, right there. For a while, you lie on your back; grinning, glowing and relaxed. You tentatively allow daylight between your eyelids. You focus with increasing clarity on the ceiling. You’re still smiling. The rationed daylight starts your mind working. The CSI: About Last Night checklist kicks in.

Where are you? Check. Calmly, you move your eyes from the ceiling and, with your head perfectly still, look left to right. Yes, you made it home. You made it into your own bed. You’re even covered with one of your own sheets. Whether or not you did that all on your own leads us to the second point.

Are you alone? Check. For this, you need to wake up a little bit more. You don’t feel touched by the presence of another. Now you have to move. Just a little. Ready? Good. You shift slightly to your side and glance at the floor next to the bed. Nobody. No bodies. Relief, maybe regret. You return to the warm patch you just left and listen up. No, not a sound. Not even from the bathroom. You sniff the air, detect no unfamiliar odours but do notice you smell different. And so, to point number three.

Are you hurt? Check. You’re still grinning inanely, so we’re talking superficial-physical-ok. You move your toes, then your feet and finally stretch your legs. You flex your fingers, hands and arms. So far, so good. You make the decision to sit up…one, two, three, up. That’s it. Head swims slightly: speed of sit up; residual booze; excess (psych) baggage. Who knows? You don’t. Nothing hurts. Good. Though sitting does feel a bit, well, uncomfortable. Not bad, just odd. You stand up. You’re a bit unsteady, but it’s time for point four. Let’s look in the mirror.

Are you marked? Check. No (new) tattoos? What about bruises or cuts? You look, you turn slowly in front of the mirror, alarmed by smudged make up in unexpected places (yours?). Everything seems to be where and how it was 24 hours before. Good. No need to wear unseasonal clothing to cover embarrassing and inexplicable markings. Now, talking of clothing, on to point five.

Where are your clothes from last night? Check. A cursory glance reveals they are folded neatly by your bed/ dropped shabbily on the floor (delete as applicable) as they always are. Relief. You scoop them up and perch on the edge of the bed, instantly reminded of that odd feeling when you sit down. Item by item you examine, hoping at least one will provide a (pleasant) clue as to what happened the night before. You discover where your different smell is coming from and that a motorbike was involved at some point (oil and tyre tread marks). And that’s it.

So, what next? Well, life goes on and so do we. You have to face the world at some point. The sooner the better. You resolve to be low-key for a couple of days. There may be phone calls or awkward encounters with those who were (fully) there. You play it cool. Days pass; there is no comeback, you don’t need the GUM clinic, and you are still none the wiser. From time to time, you reflect wistfully that that might have been the last time you had ‘Good Sex’ and you can’t even remember it. It’s a cold case. You’re still smiling. Move along now, nothing more to see.