One Night Stand

By Anne Youngbloom

You can tell if a man is truly a bachelor the instant you walk into his bedroom. It’s not the mislaid clothes or disheveled dresser, but the fact that he only has one night stand. One, unspoken designator of his side of the bed. Home to the phone, alarm clock and remote control. A clear sign to anyone staying over which side of the bed they will NOT be sleeping. Every girl knows you must have express permission to settle in on the night stand side of the bed.

As I lay awkwardly intertwined with this relative stranger, searching for self-definition in his queen size vacuum, I become amused by his physical struggle to search his catalog of names for one that matches my face. Terrified of a mislabeling he slings out a barely audible “babe,” and I repay the effort with a “yes… god… yes.”

We both lay very still in the aftermath of what we know was nothing more than a Band-Aid on a festering wound of loneliness-- his phone rings. Nervously, almost frantically, his body tenses. Should he answer the phone or chance me hearing validation of my insignificance in his life. The machine loses and he answers.

It takes only three words and two voice inflection for me to take my cue and quietly exit the bed from the side opposite the one night stand.

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