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"There's a drunk in my past..."
Friday, Jul. 18, 2003 at 2:34 a.m.


The following is in response to Marie's request for drinking stories.

This happened a few months back. Me and my roommate have taken to making ourselves a drink before we leave the apartment in order to save some money. I made myself a martini and we headed out for our local bar. Following the "liquor before beer" rule I figured I was safe, but for some reason this particular evening I was in the mood for Guinness. I think I had had two when we ran into a guy that we had been introduced to by a mutual friend. I had been attracted to him since we first met and was excited when he sat next to me. At some point in the evening, probably as I was drinking my third beer, a Rolling Rock, I started playing kneesy with him. At least, I'm pretty sure it was me who started it. When my roommate left to go to the ladies room we got pretty close and he whispered in my ear to find out whether or not I was going home with him. Even in my highly inebriated state this was new territory for me, so I said yes but explained that I couldn't make any promises about what I would feel comfortable doing. That was fine, and when the bar closed I went home with him, which was conveniently situated next door to my own building.

I'll skip the play-by-play, but we had been making out and then some for a little while when he left for the bathroom. At this point I started to not feel very well. As in, "it's inevitable that I'm going to throw up so I better pick a place and fast," not feeling well. He has a door in his bedroom that leads out to a second floor terrace so I started to go outside in an effort to lean over the edge. The problem was, I couldn't figure out how to unlock the door! So instead I started throwing up on the carpet in front it. He came back, said "Oh, my god," and unlocked the door for me so I could finish over the edge of the terrace. I figured that was it, half-expecting him to simply close the door behind me, when he came up and patted my back, telling me it was alright. "Why are you so nice?" I said nonsensically before heading to the bathroom to wash up. I felt a lot less drunk at that point, but must have been far from sober or else I never would have left the bathroom. He was completely understanding when I came out though, laughed and said "brush your teeth so we can kiss some more!" Now, there's an understanding guy for you!


I'm listening to The Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin
I'm reading Islam
I want

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Guero

Martini picture by Stormchild
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