I’m in my bedroom, after showering and pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, after breakfast, looking a lot more like the wholesome kid of days gone by rather than the hot mess of clubbing from days ago. My hair is on top of my head in a messy bun, and I am texting back a so-called girlfriend ‘Sissy’ in New York. Finally, my absence has been noted, and now that I am clear-headed and have some distance, I can see how shallow these people really are.

She didn’t text to see how or where ...