How could everything go so wrong in one second? I need Andy Cohen – NOW!

I can’t talk. I can’t breath. I can’t think. I can’t anything. I don’t want to relive what happened, I don’t want to go through it all again. When ever I remember his eyes on me, I want to throw up. I want to run to the toilet and have diarrhea. How did this happen? How CAN this happen? How can your past be standing in your present reminding you of the future you were SUPPOSED to have? How can someone you hate be someone you love? I’m so over this. OK. Maybe I’m not. Let me start at the beginning when it all started.

When I got up this morning, I lay around in bed while Puck purred and stretched next to me. I knew I had to get up and find a costume, but I couldn’t be bothered. Can’t I just stay in bed and watch YouTube videos for the rest of the weekend?

I’ve been on YouTube for the last half hour watching Watch What Happens live with Andy Cohen. I love Andy. Like, I’m actually obsessed with his genius and his humour. When Ahmed finally admits that he’s gay, I hope he ends up with someone just like Andy Cohen. That would be so much fun.

My phone is on low battery and the charger is across the room. Ahhhh. Why is everything so hard? If I get up now to charge it that will be it. I can’t stay in bed anymore. I’d have to do stuff. Like, you know, feed, shower, talk, be a human.

Before I gathered the mental energy to get out of bed, I entered a mind loop about all the things that have happened.

Stuff that happened this week:

Omar messaged me. He said he missed me. It gave me diarrhoea.

I accidently made Arse Cupcakes.

D4 wants me fried.

Law firm might close down.

Francis Alpha Bitch having an affair with D4.

Kareem wants Dana Back.

I baked two pistachio cakes but neither of them were perfect.

Mum texted me and told me she missed me and I should come back to London for a holiday.

Amal keeps messaging me about more wedding stuff and I’m starting to ignore her.

I actually have a bunch of messages from her that I haven’t opened yet. I can’t help how I feel… even though her fiancée Sammy is amazing… does she REALLY know what she’s getting herself into?

Women sacrifice SO much for marriage but yet most of us still want it. WHY? Don’t we all still want to get married? I know I wanted too… but now. Ew. Gross.

So, what do I want? I hate being a lawyer. I have no idea what I want to do or who I am anymore. Why can’t I just be in a Real Housewife franchise? Andy?

They always say, the first thing you think about when you wake up is what you should do or what you actually want out of life. OK. Bull shit advice. The first thing I think about when I wake up is I want to sleep more. After that, I unlock my phone and usually, being half asleep, I always open the camera by accident and it’s ALWAYS the front facing camera.

Usually I’m either shocked by how bad I look in the morning OR how good I look for someone who just woke up. Today, I actually looked good when I woke up. All glowey. Must be because I signed up for the gym?

Fuck it. Now I need to pee. I’m always too scared to hold my pee in for too long. Like I might get some infection. So I got up put my mobile on charge and went to the toilet. That’s it, I have to snap out of the mind loop and not worry about the big universal questions like you know, who am I, what’s my purpose, will I die alone etc. I need to think about the next most important thing. My Halloween costume.

I had a shower, ate two pieces of sourdough with smashed avocado and lemon (yummy) and went to the costume store down the road. I wasn’t even there for long when I saw exactly what I should be this Halloween. Marie Antoinette.

Then I heard it. The words that define my generation, the words that define my world – all of our worlds.

When I saw the costume in its plastic covering on the rack, I realized that I actually love Marie Antoinette. I randomly read up on her a few weeks ago and realized that history actually really, royally screwed her over. Like fully. I felt sorry for her, cause in the end of the day, she was just a pinky fluffy girl like me!

What you actually didn’t know about Marie Antoinette

First of all, she isn’t actually French. She’s Austrian and had loads of siblings. Her mum married her off to the future King of France when she was 14! Granted he was only a year older than her but imagine being shipped off to a foreign country to live with your husband who you never met before and his whole bloody family! SCREW THAT.

Before she was Queen and people started to hate her, she was basically like a celebrity – like an actual teen idol! When she made her first appearance in the Paris, 50,000 people showed up and the crowd got so rowdy that at least 30 people were killed.

She and her hubby didn’t have sex for the first seven years for their marriage! Apparently, he had penis problems. I hate the word penis. It sounds so much like peanuts. Once when I was 13 I said I wanted a bag of penis M&Ms by accident and Dana won’t ever let me forget it. Anyway, Marie Antoinette’s husband sorted it out and they got down and dirty and had four children. She also adopted a few!

People always assume that Marie Antoinette wasted a lot of money and that she was super selfish and materialistic. BUT she was actually a very giving person. She founded a home for unwed mothers, visited and gave food to poor families, and, during a famine in 1787 she sold stuff off in the royal household to buy grain for poor people.

So, everyone thinks that all of France’s financial problems are her and her husband’s fault. WRONG. Actually, when she and her hubby became King and Queen the country was already in a lot of financial trouble. The “media” at the time, liked to blame women for everything. Usually, they liked to pin the blame on the mistresses of Kings but because Marie Antoinette’s husband had no mistresses, the press decided to depict Marie as super extravagant and careless with money. Talk about getting punished for having a loyal husband! 

Apparently Marie Antoinette’s royal hairdresser Léonard Autié was one of her BFFs. Totally and absolutely realistic. He gave her all these crazy gravity-defying hairstyles, which were nearly four feet high. He even added things like feathers and trinkets and once, a model of the French warship La Belle Poule to commemorate its sinking of a British frigate. Basically that bitch was Fab-fucking-ulous.

She never actually said, “Let them eat cake!” that’s a complete lie made up by the press. There is no record of her ever saying it as a response to people not being able to afford bread. I won’t lie though – it’s kind of a cool line.

This one broke my heart. For real. Marie Antoinette’s final words were on her way to the guillotine were said when she accidentally stepped on the executioner’s foot: “Pardon me, sir. I meant not to do it.” Like, how bloody ironic is that?!

Marie Antoinette was completely misunderstood and screwed over by circumstance. So basically, a lot like me but minus the royal part, married to a kind husband who loved her. Think about it. Aren’t we all a little Marie Antoinette? Expected to get married as a duty, misunderstood, chastised when all we want to do is have fun?

So there you have it, for Halloween I’m going to dress up like my alter ego. Marie Antoinette Arab style!

The dress is black with gold patterns all over it. The sleeves are long, flared and dramatic, the skirt is super (I mean SUPER) poufy at the bottom, the neck line is all intricate and lacy and doesn’t show too much cleavage and the waist is tight enough to make my boobs look bigger but I’m still able to breath – kind of. The best part is the wig. OMG I love it. It’s white blond, super high and with a trail of flowers all over it. I was surprised that it’s actually comfortable to wear.

I powdered my face white and wore a really red lipstick. I made my eyes super dark and smoky, coloured in my eyebrows so they were thicker and darker and added a mole next to my lip. When I looked in the mirror I actually looked pretty hot. Best part? The skirt is so long and poufy, that I can wear black flats and no one would notice. Yes! Beauty and comfort! What else can a woman ask for on a night out?!

Ahmed, Dana, and Rania picked me up at 8.30pm. Ahmed was dressed up as Spider Man which, despite the costume being super tight actually really suited him. He’s quiet lean for a someone with a smaller build. Rania was already tipsy and fun in her Ariana Grande cat costume and Dana looked almost exactly like Jessica Rabbit which was kinda scary.

I want to be in bed. I want Andy Cohen. Can you hear me Andy Cohen?! SAVE ME!

Miss Lilly’s was packed and our table was in a prime spot. The two tables next to ours were also booked with some other of Dana’s friends. She introduced me quickly to a whole bunch of them whose names I was already forgetting. Dana made a point to introduce me to a guy called Hisham. He was tall, with green eyes and light hair and was dressed as Wolverine.

‘Isn’t he hot? He’s a banker – I’m setting up a few events for the bank he works in,’ she said close to my ear and I remembered what Kareem told me over the phone.

‘Oh are you guys…’

‘We’ve been hanging out. He’s really cool, I want you to meet his friend actually he might just be your type.’

She introduced me to a guy called Faisal who was dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow. He really pulled it off actually. He was tall, like six foot, had large hands, really sexy dark eyes, tan skin and a nice slim build. But I was also not interested.

‘It’s nice to meet you Sarah, Dana told me so much about you. I like your costume.’

He had a slight Arab accent which I thought was super sexy. OK, I’m still not interested but he’s nice to look at. And listen to.

‘He’s super, super rich by the way. His family own a while bunch of technology businesses.’

OK, I’m still not interested. But you know… I’m interested in maybe becoming interested.

Faisal asked me a bunch of questions about my job and how I know Dana and then said he wanted to get me a drink. I was about to say no when Dana spoke for me.

‘She’d love one! We both would!’

Hisham and Faisal went off to the bar and I sat at our table.

‘He’s hot,’ Rania said, ‘you should talk to him more.’

‘Not too much though,’ Dana said, ‘you look hot tonight, you don’t want him to think you’re desperate. Also guys look way better in costume so we should do walkies.’

‘Walkies?’ Ahmed asked.

‘Walk around the club so the guys can notice us and we can also check the talent out,’ Dana said pulling up the top part of her dress and looking around us.

‘You don’t have to talk to any guy if you don’t want to,’ Ahmed said quietly to me.

‘I know,’ I told him, ‘I really like your costume by the way.’

‘Thanks,’ he said looking down at himself then back up at me smiling, ‘I was worried I’d look fat in it but been hitting the gym hard for the last month.’

‘Have you?’

‘Yeah, I have abs now and everything,’ he said, ‘want to feel?’

I laughed and slapped his shoulder.

‘All this work for your girlfriend?’ I teased.

‘Er huh? My what?’

‘Dana said you had a date the other night, who is she?’ I asked.

‘Oh that… yeah this girl from the office… her name is Tala. It’s nothing though, I realized it’s nothing.’

‘Why not?’ I asked looking him square in the face.

He started to fidget. I really wish he would just tell me. I don’t care. None of us would care if he just told us he was gay. It will be such a relief for him.

‘There’s no chemistry there,’ he said.

‘Yeah chemistry is important…’ I said looking away.

You can’t force these things. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

‘By the way that Faisal guy isn’t your type.’

‘You don’t think?’ I asked, ‘maybe, we’ll see.’

‘Oh are you interested in seeing other guys now, I mean, do you want to date?’

‘I don’t know, actually no, I’m not. It’s feels gross right now.’

‘I think you should take your time . . .’

‘Same but I guess alcohol speeds up time right?’ I said as Dana passed around shots.

‘Drink up!’

‘Sarah you don’t have to-’

Too late. I don’t know what I was thinking really. I’m not a shot girl. But I took the shot anyway and squirmed as it burnt down my throat.

‘Yes! Jager bombs!’ Dana said.

Hisham and Faisal were walking back with a waiter who was holding a tray of jager bombs.

‘This one is for you,’ Faisal said.

Then I heard it. The words that define my generation, the words that define my world – all of our worlds.

I knew Ahmed wasn’t happy. He just wants to make sure I don’t do anything stupid or that find myself in a position with a guy where I want to run away. Then it will be his job to formulate a text to tell said guy to fuck off in a nice way.

‘You don’t want to be a cock tease,’ Ahmed always says.

I don’t want to be a cock tease nope. Definitely not. But sometimes it’s nice to have a conversation with a good looking guy, giving me attention. It’s not my fault if the next day I realise he isn’t as cute, isn’t as nice or has bad breath or bad shoes. That’s life. Right?

For the next hour I danced near our table, drank, danced some more, drank more talked to Faisal, fixed Dana’s boobs, fixed Rania kitten ears and laughed at stupid things with Ahmed that didn’t make sense to anyone but us.

‘OK let’s go for walkies,’ Dana said grabbing me and Rania by the arm and dragging us away.

The club was full of people – zombies, werewolves, slutty nurses, cheerleaders, witches, ballerinas, bears and I think there was a shark in a life guard costume. I was wonderfully drunk. Not so drunk where I didn’t know anything or was acting a fool or even worse, so drunk that I’d turned into a full on crazy angry broody teenager. I was fun, flirty, confident, happy Sarah. OMG why can’t I feel like this all the time?!

Dana stopped a few times and talked to people she knew and few that she didn’t, while me and Rania held on to each other and laughed, dancing, taking selfies and boomerangs. I have to admit each time I saw myself in her phone I couldn’t believe how fucking hot I looked. Like super fucking hot.

There was an area that lead off the main dance floor. We walked toward it, our arms interlinked, laughing. This dance area was emptier than the main dance floor. Above us were these balcony terrace things from the second floor of the club where people were smoking and drinking.

There were also a few columns that had faux spider webs around them. Rania leaned against one to fix her stocking and shoe and Dana lit a cigarette. Then I heard it. The words that define my generation, the words that define my world – all of our worlds.

‘It’s Britney Bitch.’

And then the beat dropped. I screamed.

‘I see you… and I just want to dance with you…’

I can’t control myself. My body is moving, my hands are up in the air, my fingers are snapping, hand patting my huge wig and I strut to the middle of the dance floor.

‘This is my song!’ I scream at Dana and Rania who are laughing and dancing with me – but with much less enthusiasm and fucking fabulocity than I was.

There couldn’t have been a better song than Gimmie More by queen Britney Spears to be played right now. Long haired brunet and blond wig wearing Britney were flashing on the screen across the dance floor right now. She was telling me to dance with her – to give her more. And I did.

With Britney as my spirit guide, I let my alter ego emerge. I felt beautiful, confident and utterly, perfectly, royally drunk. So I poll danced.

I jumped on one of the columns with the faux spider webs and swung around it. I jumped up on it again, climbing in a completely sexy way, had one arm wrapped around the columns and slid down while Dana and Rania cheered me on. I was like a dancing goddess, swinging around that column like it was part of my body, like I was the best fucking stripper to ever have worked a pole.

Side Note: Last year, me, Amal and Rania took pole dancing lesson in London as a work out and I was so fucking good at it. The dance instructor basically told me to quit my day job and be a stripper.

Then when I thought I was in full control, I slipped down and fell on my bum. We couldn’t stop laughing. I stood up quickly as if it was part of my routine. Thankfully, there were hardly any people in this part of the club. But yeah I kept dancing, cause my alter ego doesn’t know how to quit when she’s being a thot. And make no mistake, I was a thot in thot land making the most of my drunk thot ways.

I jumped right back on the pole like a good bitch, higher than before, my legs around the column, one arm wrapped around it, the other one up in the air waving to my invisible audience. Slowly, I swung around the column and slid down, Dana and Rania were cheering and clapping. Then I felt funny.

I could sense it. Someone was staring at me. Like someone specific. I looked up at the balcony/terrace thing to my right and there was someone there. A guy in a mask and a cape. He was dressed like the Phantom of the Opera. His gloved hands were on the railing of the terrace. He was leaning forward and staring so intensely at me. It was the weirdest thing.

I was on the floor now, standing and staring back up at him. He wouldn’t look away. His eyes felt like they were burning me. I really wanted to see his face. Dana pulled me.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, ‘we left Ahmed alone in the table he must be bored as fuck. I wish he’d drink. Control freak.’

Rania and Dana took me by arms and we made out way out of the dance area. I looked back and the Phantom of the Opera was gone. We passed by the bar where we bumped into Hisham and Faisal. They gave us more shots, and I took it – probably shouldn’t have.

Across the club I saw Ahmed standing by our table talking to a girl. He looked over at me and waved. I waved back and was about to make my way to him when I felt Rania squeeze my arm.

‘Don’t freak out,’ she said close to my ear.

‘Freak out?’

I looked to where she was looking. I just saw his eyes. A few feet away from me, in the middle of the dance floor, it was him. Omar. Just as our eyes locked – it was like a split second – I broke our gaze and ran for it. I’m an expert at running.


Rania, Dana, Ahmed or maybe it was him. I heard them together or separately or maybe it was in my head but someone was calling my name.

I pushed through the people and their masks, the make up, the fake vampire teeth, the coloured contacts, the zombies, the smoke machines, the loud music. OMG I felt sick. I shouldn’t have had that last shot. I need to leave. Right now. I need to get home. I want to be in bed. I want Andy Cohen. Can you hear me Andy Cohen?! SAVE ME!

Someone’s hand was on my shoulder. I swiped it away and made for the door to get out of the club.


The hand was around my wrist. I turned around. It was Omar. I froze. This wasn’t a dream. It was actually him. Omar was in all black with glow in the dark paint marks of a skeleton on his suit. Half of his face was painted in that Mexican day of the dead skull stuff that I never got.

‘Sarah, I need to talk to you…’

‘No,’ I said and pulled my hand out of his.

‘Please Sarah . . . I miss you.’

OMG. His eyes are so dark. His jaw line is so… I always loved his jaw line. And his voice. Why the fuck does he have this effect on me when I hate him? I hate how he is a part of me. I hate how he was a huge chunk of my life. I hate how he was supposed to be my future. A future I still think about. And he’s standing now in front of me, now in the present like someone I know so well but also a stranger at the same time.

Why was he here? He’s supposed to be living in London, not here. I left London BECAUSE of him. How dare he stand in front of me and tell me that he misses me? My knees were shaking. I don’t know if I’m scared, angry or drunk. But I’m strong or maybe I’m hurt, or maybe I’m scared, drunk – or maybe it all of it, everything happening at once. I was also hungry. For chicken wings. I just felt like chicken wings so bad in that moment. Fuck, I was drunk.

‘Sarah say something . . .’

I couldn’t. All I could see was me in a pink dress, with a basket in my hand. There were sandwiches and pies and a cake inside. I was so happy that day. And then I saw it all. I opened the door and I saw it. And my life hasn’t been the same ever since.

‘Leave me alone. Don’t follow me.’

I turned around and left him standing in the middle of the club. As soon as I was outside I got in the first cab I saw. My phone was ringing. It was Ahmed. I didn’t pick up.

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