Paper Faces on Parade

Lights passing above, passing by, in the darkness.
This dress was really short.
So short if I bent over you would see my underwear.
It covered up 1/8 of my legs.
Maybe less.
As I looked it the mirror, I turned a quarter, popping up my right heel. There was definitely a lot of leg to be had here. I looked impossibly long. And I liked it.
Curls fell softly in my face, my eyes lined in darkness.
I sat there quietly in the car. Sound disappeared in my head as I thought about this feeling.
There was a lot I missed about coupledom. A lot that was comfy and easy. But I no longer felt a manic need for it. I liked the possibility implied by being single.
I could have whomever I wanted, try on whomever I liked, live a life of intrigue with whomever I desired.
That felt liberating in a way I had never experienced before in my life.
I felt the compelling need to party, something I hadn't understood until lately. I felt the need to show my body off to the world, something I hadn't really felt to need to do for anyone else but a significant other.
I felt the need to be sexy.
The party in and of itself was a bust. But what it represented was so much more.
So much more of myself that I now understood.
And even if I didn't get a second look at the party, it didn't matter so much.
I was sexy, every part of me.
And you should have seen his face when I came home.
"Masquerade, paper faces on parade."
~ Masquerade, from the Phantom of the Opera