I might sound like an idiot, but you would too if you had been staring at the same spot for three hours. I’m laid up on some fancy hotel bed, just staring. My back is starting to hurt something fierce, and I begin to dread being old. All old people do is lay on their back it seems. My mind is wandering to everything in the sun to keep my mind off of what just happened to me.

In my twenty-four years of life I, Madison Marie West, have abstained from practically any sexual contact with another male. It’s taken effort and concentration on my part. Believe me, it wasn’t because nobody wanted to jump my bones. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t be one of those girls that run around and fuck anything with legs. I have a problem with addiction. Abstaining from sexual contact means I cannot get addicted to it. You can’t get addicted to something you do not do.

I’m not talking waiting for my fairy tale wedding or some mumbo jumbo shit like that. I just know that knowing my luck in life, I would be the one to end up in a hospital bed screaming my lungs out and cussing at a new being that was tearing up my vagina. That’s just the way my cookie always crumbles.

I’ve never been in love. I never want to be in love. I want to remain an unmarried woman with no children in sight. So if you never have children, can you get your tubes tied anyway? Maybe that would solve my nonsexual existence.

Fuck all this sex talk. Lets get back to the ceiling and why the fuck I’ve been staring at it for 185 minutes now. Oh, I think I just saw a fifth smudge. You can see if you squint really hard. I haven’t taken my eyes off of the ceiling except for to look at the clock a total of three times. My eyes are even beginning to drift even though it is now 4:34 in the morning. I can tell already that there will be no sleep for me. This is a first. I usually fall asleep the first chance I get.

Okay, fuck the no thinking about the sex part. I’ve been avoiding the subject for almost three hours and fifteen minutes.

I, Madison Marie West, just had sex for the first time after twenty-four years and 242 days. I, Madison Marie West, just spent her night losing her virginity to a complete stranger. I, Madison Marie West, had a one-night stand. I, Madison Marie West, had her brains fucked out by none other than Justin Timberlake. I, Madison Marie West, am now addicted to everything and anything dealing with sex.

_______________________

I stifle a yawn and hit the phone as it rings. If I don’t pick it up, I know they will just keep calling. The weird thing about this is I ask for a wakeup call, but then I’m always too annoyed to pick it up. All I have to say to them is “I’m up” or some shit to that extent, and I don’t even want to do that. The most annoying thing about the whole phone ringing concept is that it worsens this huge ass hangover headache that I’m currently nursing.

When I finally do pick up the phone, I just give somewhat of a grunt. And even that sounds as if I’ve shouted at the top of my lungs. It is 6:02 in the morning. I feel like shit due to that enormous amount of alcohol I consumed last night. I have a show to do tonight as part of my fantastic little club tour. Who’s ever idea that was should be fired. Only because afterwards I just wind up getting drunk most of the time and passing out.

However last night I fucked the sixth woman since the tour started one month ago. That’s a lot to most people, but like a grain of salt to me. Trace has reminded me thousands of times to stop fucking these random women and get over my ex-girlfriend. He insists the only reason I’m going around fucking and leaving is because I can’t get over Jessica ‘the bitch’ Biel. This is entirely false and made up. The real truth is that I’m sick of relationships. Everyone I have ever had has come back to shoot me in the ass, so I’ve given up on them. Completely. I just want to have sex with no strings attached.

And last night I did. But the only thing I can remember about it was the girl’s voice. It was distinct because it was sexy, driven, and ravenous. I’ve never heard anything like it. I can’t remember what the girl looked like in the slightest. Hell, for all I know she could have had four tits. I wouldn’t have cared. If she had a vagina, that’s enough for me.

“JUSTIN!?” Jesus Christ. Did he have to just scream loud enough to burst my eardrums? It feels like he’s even done more damage than that. Imagine the ladies that would cry if my eardrums were busted. And that pounding? Why does he insist on pounding?

“Dammit Trace you don’t have to scream. I could hear you right now if you just fucking whispered,” I whip open the door as fast as I can and almost slam it in his face. What the hell is he doing in my room this early anyway?

“I brought you some coffee. You have a radio interview in an hour and a half. I’m sure they wouldn’t like it if you were drunk off of your ass. And if you have a girl in there, get her out,” I take my coffee. Trace knows how to do my coffee. That’s why he’s the best damn best friend and personal assistant there ever was. Not that Rachel isn’t fabulous, but she needs work. I’m sure Rachel was the one that scheduled this stupid radio interview. I’m so sick of doing interviews. They have almost put me in the mental ward. I mean how long can you really go on answering the same damn questions before they lock you up and throw away the key?

“Trace, you are a lifesaver.” And that’s how I slam the door in his face. Gotta love Trace, but not in the morning standing in front of me barking out orders when I haven’t even so much as gone to the bathroom.

This is simply a great time in my life. I’m free of girlfriends, I get drunk whenever I want, I have people bring me coffee at the crack of dawn, I get fucked three ways to Sunday whenever I want. How much better can my life get?