Stranger in a strange town

Everything has been a bit sketchy lately:

Seeing last year's fuck buddy Alex for the first time in six months and fancying him for the first five minutes, then being done;

Seeing S - girl who I went to bed with at my party and lecherously fancying the pants off her (not literally, unfortunately);

Seeing Brabs - a guy I threw out off bed because he wouldn't tell me how old he was (since learned he is 41) and feeling quite sheepish that I ever considered sleeping with him;

Being reminded off the "bus stop barrister" by walking past the cafe that we had breakfast in the morning after in Stoke Newington (and therefore being reminded of Alex, as I went from being in bed with Alex until the afternoon to rushing off for a date with said barrister);

Seeing E and being cross at myself for still fancying the pants off him;

Not remembering how last night ended and therefore requiring being filled in by G - thankfully nothing embarrassing happened, though maybe he was just being polite;

Looking through my text messages this morning from last night and realising that I made plans with sleazy Dave to go to some show at the Royal Opera House, but having no recollection of doing so.

It used to be that my husband was the drunken daft one and I was the responsible one. How roles change.