the problem with living with your mother at 36

i was out in la then moved back to new york, now i'm broke and living with my mother. so a friend invites me to his birthday party and i go and by about 4:30 in the morning i'm drunk and wandering around 8th avenue and 45th street and i pick up this disgusting old whore. she takes me to her car (a very nice, late-model lexus), we get in and i tell her to jack me off. so she puts a condom on me and starts jacking. i'm very drunk and very tired, i can barely get it up. finally i do but i can't come. then a cop car shows up near by. i get nervous, zip up my pants and she and i part company. so i take a cab home, back to my mother's house, and i turn on the internet and i start masturbating, with that condom still on my penis. i don't remember going to sleep but at some point i wake up in my bed and i have no idea where this condom is. it's not where i last remembered seeing it... and i can't find it anywhere. and i am set upon by an awful feeling, this in addition to the suicidal misery of my hangover, a feeling of dread, disgust and paranoia, accompanied by an image of that dirty rubber turning up floating in a pot of my mother's soup.