Party Girl

Party Girl

by Pat St. Pierre

I like to drink.

And I had my share of boys during my high school years.

What I’m trying to say is that I like to party! That’s the way to have guys falling at your feet.

My mama told me that. She loves men! The more men she slept with the happier she was. She cheated on my dad when I was little. That’s what led to their divorce. But she didn’t care. There were other men waiting to have her.

I’m just like my mama I guess it’s in my genes. I love all men.

But the strange thing is these men never stay around very long. Sometimes I want them to but they always seem to leave me.

Now that I’ve started college there are more fellas then I could ever have imagined. The fraternity guys certainly know how to party! And drink. They love to drink as much as I do.

I started doing lots of frat guys. Sleeping with fraternity brothers, such fun! For homecoming I got really drunk and slept with my current boyfriend and two Sigma Chi brothers.

Had a blast! I was totally wiped out!

Two months later I found out that I was pregnant. Not sure who the father is. I decided  I would have an abortion. No big stomach and kid for me.

I’m not really smiling these days. All I seem to be doing is crying and crying.

I keep thinking what happened to that laughing party girl?  My mother never told me that a party girl could be lonely and sad.

Once again, I did what I always do—seek out men. At least they provided me with money and things.

I think the reason why I keep turning to sex with all this men is because I crave attention. As a child I was isolated and lonely. My Mama was always out and I really don’t know what happened to my father.

After a while everything seemed good again. Then I began to feel the void of permanent companionship. I started going to the park and that’s where I met Hugh, an elderly gentleman. We hit it off really well and I gradually started telling him about myself. He asked why I didn’t try to change my life.

I told him my life was fun and that I needed the money. All these guys I met were paying me. So, why work or go to school. Hugh said that if I really wanted to that I could change. He offered me a job working for him cleaning his house and tending to his flower garden. I told him if it was sex he wanted I do it for free because he was really nice and I liked him. He told me no that I missed the point of what he was talking about. Everyone can change but only if they really want to he said. Yes, he said he cared about what happened to me.

Days turned into months and the highlight of my life was sitting on the park bench talking to Hugh. He really believed that I could change! Nobody had ever said that to me before. I told him that as long as I needed money I could never try to change. But secretly I began to question if that was the real reason.

One autumn day Hugh didn’t show up at the park. He hadn’t shown up for five days. I wasn’t sure where he lived but I missed him and I was worried about him. Then one afternoon a young man came to the park and introduced himself as Eric. He asked me if I was Amanda. I said I was. He said Hugh was his father had a stroke and he was in a nursing home. I asked if I could go and visit him and he said that he’d take me. The next day I went to visit Hugh. He was so happy to see me. I went to visit him every day. I took him outside in his wheelchair and sang songs with him in the singalong.

One day he told me that the nursing home needed people to help out and if I was willing to they would give me a job with a small pay. I told him that I’d think about it. I took the job. The men and women were so appreciative of everything that I did for them. In the meantime there was a therapist at the home and Hugh set up a meeting for me with her. At first I thought that it was a complete waste of time, but as the days progressed I realized how needy I was and how I didn’t like myself very much. Theresa, the therapist, said that together we would work on changing that. I came to recognized that the reason I turned to men was because of my lack of love as a child.

As weeks turned to months I realized that I was a worthwhile person and the affection that I was craving was the wrong kind. Hugh saw the change in me and said he knew that I was on the road to becoming a better person.

One morning on my day off Eric showed up at my rooming house. He told me Hugh had died.

Overcome with emotion I started crying and shaking. I couldn’t believe that he was gone. Oh, how I would miss him. “Your father was my good friend,” I told Eric.

“I know,” he replied, “and you were very dear to him. He believed in you!” He said, “You are a good person and he enjoyed the time you two spent together.” When I heard that I cried uncontrollably.

Eric put his arm around me and finally I was able to speak. “You don’t know how much I’m going to miss him.”

“Just don’t forget how much he cared for you,” Eric said. “He left you something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a check. “He said that you would know what to do with this.”

I looked at the check and couldn’t believe what I saw. Hugh really did believe in me. I wasn’t just a party girl. Hugh was right. I wanted to change and with help and support I no longer was the person he first met.

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Pat St. Pierre
Pat St Pierre is a freelance author of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry for both adults and children. Her work has appeared both online and in print. She has had nonfiction, flash fiction, fiction, and poetry published in various places. Some of her work can be found in: Mountain Tales Press, The Hearth, A Long Story Short, The Feathered Flounder, Fiction 365, Fifty Word Stories, etc. She is also a freelance photographer whose photos have appeared on covers and within online and print magazines. Her blog is

3 thoughts on “Party Girl

  1. The premise of this story works fine, but it might have helped it be more authentic and less preachy if it was done in dialogue? I’d love to see an ending on this piece that wasn’t so “Pretty Woman” pat.

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