The Cheeky Shag: Sunshine Laundromat
by Celina Huynh
It was the first week of December where the first chills were beginning to prick. I don’t have any scientific proof, but I’m positive that my body works harder when it’s cold, which meant that the work days felt extra long. My commute felt extra tiresome,and the subway steps felt extra steep. By the time six o’clock came around, I was too spent to buy groceries or cook my own food. I Seamless’ed the week away and went through a whole season of Black Mirror. Do I deserve to be so self-indulgent? Not really. But I was never a person who believed in feeling guilty for your pleasures.
Friday 6 o’clock hit and I rushed out of the office like a senior’s last day of high school. I ran to to this shop called the Rainbow Station right by my office in Chelsea. It’s a pleasure store but I wasn’t looking to buy a Dildo or anything, just a pair of fishnets. Then I ran to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of Tequila. When I came home, I emptied out my bag on the couch. A golden bottle of Jose Cuervo, a pair of red fishnets, a tube of Burt’s Bees chapstick, a bottle of advil, a sleeve of three condoms, and a leftover plastic fork from lunch. Tonight was looking promising.
It was thirty four degrees outside, but I was so excited to wear a red lace dress that I had just gotten on sale. I slipped it on over my red fishnets, swathed on some red lipstick, and biked bare-legged to my friend’s apartment in Greenpoint. There, I downed my bottle of tequila chased with Orangina, which is when my mind started to feel a citrus haze. Over an indiscriminate amount of time, I somehow ended at up at a party held at Sunshine Laundromat in Greenpoint. There was a vending machine at the entrance filled with Reeses, pregnancy tests,and pork gravy packets. I ignored the impulse to purchase gravy and made my way to the back of the laundromat where the DJ booth was.
Fuck, I thought to myself. The DJ was a guy that I had ghosted last week. We went on one date and he slept over, but I had no intention of seeing him again. Especially after I had ignored his texts. We locked eyes, but good thing he was entrapped by the confines of the DJ booth. I took advantage of my free limbs and stumbled to the bathroom. Like I said, I’m not someone prone to guilt, but as I sat on the toilet, I began to feel something strange. I felt guilty and sad, almost like I owed this guy an apology or something. In the split second that I saw him, the way he looked at me made me feel like a bad person. Or maybe this is was the Tequila talking. Either way, I was too anxious to rejoin the party. The temperature had dropped to a frigid thirty degrees fahrenheit. Someone’s laundry was in the dryer, so I opened it and stuck my head in the pile of warm and freshly scented clothing. The heat felt so cozy, I wanted to take a nap inside the dryer and nestle myself in this stranger’s laundry. Imagine finding a drunk a girl the next morning in your dryer. I entertained the idea, but thought it best not to do so. I somehome biked my drunk ass home and in my frozen red fishnet glory, disintegrated under my sheets.