Alone in the City

Its dreary day in Surry Hills today, which reminds me of something…

In high school I had a best friend who was a bit of a homebody. She kept me grounded throughout my senior years and when I did find myself in trouble with boys or other girls (which was quite frequently) her house became my refuge.

Sometimes we would wag school just to go back to her beautiful seaside home, eat ravioli and watch countless episodes of whatever her domestic goddess mother was into at the time. 
She opened my eyes to countless sexy soaps including Nip Tuck, Greys Anatomy, Desperate Housewives and Californication. 
Then there was one stormy afternoon, when I was feeling particularly unhappy and I remember laying in her bed with her beautiful white linen doona over my head when I heard a very catchy tune.
I then remember peeling the covers away from my face and seeing my friend perched enthusiastically on the end of her bed staring wide eyed at a curly blonde haired girl, who had forgotten her bra and looked like she was about to get hit by a bus. 
I remember her then turning to me and saying something along the lines of “this is the best fucking show you’ll ever see.”
And my beautiful friend was right. Like so many other women around the world after the first episode of Sex and the City I was hooked. I even failed legal studies in year 11 because I would sneak out of school early on Wednesday just to try and finish each series before mum got home. 
My love for SATC and its relevance to my life is so fucking cliche but I admit over the years it’s saved me when I’ve been in some pretty miserable situations. 
Moving to Sydney is a perfect example…

Below is a photo of my very first room in Sydney. To put it bluntly this room was a nicely furnished cell, in a massive cold concrete building in Randwick. I arrived with only one piece of carry on luggage  which included a towel, a little red bag of makeup/tampons/vitamins, one pair of shoes, a dress and one sheet. The pillow in the photo I purchased on day two…on the first day I vividly remember sleeping on my arm for support.

I ate alone and I wrote alone. I had gone from living in a tight knit community where I had an awesome support system to having no family and knowing no one. For the first few days I was even scared of using the public transport system as I had no idea how it worked and was too scared to ask anyone, needless to say I got used to walking EVERYWHERE. On the third night I sat down to dinner (a bowl of Coles crunchy salad and a tin of tuna was the only thing I could make at 17…sad I know) and because I had no internet and no TV I was planning on watching a movie on my laptop until I found that they had all been accidentally erased by my little brother. 
All I wanted was to engage in something, anything that took my mind off being totally alone in the big city and when I found that I couldn’t access any of the movies on my computer I lost my shit. I pushed the bland tasteless salad to the side and slammed shut my computer. 
Now I don’t know whether it was the sheer force of the screen shutting or an act of jebus but I suddenly heard something ejecting itself from my laptop. Out of the CD slot appeared a little bloody miracle. 
The first season of Sex and the City.
I had no idea that it was in there the whole time but I tell you what I was so grateful that it was. That one disc, hands down got me through my first week in Sydney. At least until some of my shoes arrived.
As outrageously lame as it sounds the SATC girls were my only friends in the city until The Dirthouse Queens came along. They kept the dream alive on the days that I would catch the wrong bus and end up in the middle of nowhere or get ripped off by a cab driver who could smell my ignorance from a mile away. In hindsight I think it’s funny and a little bit sick how much I relied on a cheesy HBO television show but whatever gets you through the day I say.
These days I’m incredibly lucky that I rarely ever feel lonely. I am so blessed to live with three beautiful girls who are always there for me whenever I need them. Thats not to say that I don’t value my alone time, in fact if theres one thing that first week in Sydney taught me it would be to really cherish being alone and doing exactly what you want to do. Before you know it there will probably be several other people in your life that you will always have to account for, may it be a boyfriend, a best friend or a little further down the track a child or two. Saviour the time you have to be selfish and the time you have to answer to no one but yourself because this time is fleeting and when it’s gone it’s gone. 
Moral of the story is that sometimes its really good to be alone but on those occasions that you just want some girly company, you know where to find us…
At The Dirthouse of course!
Miss P
About me

Heaven on Bourke is a lifestyle blog created by Miss P, a twenty-something author of a Pleasure Guide pamphlet most commonly found in luxe vibrator boxes. True story! She loves to travel between her beachy hometown of Noosa and London's upmarket Notting Hill, where she writes a smut column for a lingerie empire. Off duty, Miss P brunches in the city and dates many interesting characters. All findings on real life, sex and love are recorded in this honest lifestyle blog for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy gorgeous!

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