Booze, honesty, and poetic license at best.


August 14th, 2011

So I attended a party tonight. Everyone was asking me about my up coming move. And as per us. (pronounced like used… as in short for usual) I brushed it off, laughed and said something light and fun. And the drinks keep coming. I swear to you. Your phone should have a breathalyzer to test weather or not you can actually send text messages. Anything above a .00 should be no go on texting.

So I’m at this party. And I’m not drunk enough to be having a really good time. I’m just having an okay time. And there’s these girls who are unfortunately not that much younger than me. So they’re close enough to my age that the way they were dancing could be a generational thing. One was jumping up and down and about 40 lbs over weight (that means she should not have been jumping), then on another song they were doing hand clapping games to the song “come on Ilene” I wanted to cry. They ruined a perfectly good song for me. Had I had more to drink I maybe could have danced. But there came a time in the evening where I just knew that wasn’t going to happen.

So I’m outside with an older generation hanging out pretending not to care. When I get a text that says “I love you” I spit out my drink at this point. This text is coming from a guy who I knew liked me… when we lived in the same state. And we text on ocasion and tonight he just came out with it… I love you. He may have followed that up with “are we going to hook up or just be pals?” I wasn’t sure how to answer that seeing as I hadn’t seen him in over a year, and I don’t even live in what most people would consider driving distance (but then again… I’m not most people)

Something happens when I drink. I find a deep dark desire to be brutally honest (even more so that I already am) to everyone. I want to call/email/text/write/whatever boys who have done me wrong and tell them what they did wrong when it came to me. Por ejemplo… I “dated” this guy for like two months. And I mean at one point we both admitted it was a little more than just “dating”. Half way through the two months I asked him point blank. Are you “dating” anyone else besides me? And he said he was. I had to pretend I didn’t care because our “dating” was strictly casual. But I mean come the fuck on. I knew it was slightly more than that and he admitted it to. So when I contacted him about a month ago to see if he wanted to go on one last “date”… he said “sure, but just as friends.” Um… what? What the fuck does that even mean? So of course stupid me asks… and he says “because I’m seeing someone else and while it’s not serious, I wouldn’t feel right” talk about a stab in the heart. I mean I wasn’t deep dark in love or anything. But I would like to think I’m worth being that kind of gal. And I don’t why I wasn’t… and I didn’t bother to ask. I deleted his pictures, his Facebook, and his phone number and text history…

And alas….  This part of the even brings me to guy #3… I met this guy early last spring… it might have even been late winter. And there was something there when we met. Yet the bar we met at he was just playing a gig… and lived two hours away. So we kept in touch. Texts, long night calls, Facebook. You know how it is. And he easily became my best friend…. until he wasn’t. Funny how that happens.

Well last week he texted me and apologized for being a dick once upon a time. So we’re kind of back in the realm of becoming friends again… or something like that. And boozed up little me that I was tonight started texting him. Damn cell phone seriously needs a booze lock. And somewhere in all of this texting I might have said “Come see me” and he said No, and I said in true five year old fashion… why not? And he said … “because we would be alone, in a quiet place, and it would be late. Why do you want me to come see you?” then I hit him back with “because the last time I saw you, was the first time I met you” Reading it back I thought it sounded deep, profound, sweet, and really poetic.

That… or I shouldn’t be blogging right now because well….

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2 thoughts on “Booze, honesty, and poetic license at best.

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