This, this is what death feels like. I know because I’ve died before from various bouts of sugar overdose. I always come back, though, and usually with a baking vengeance. But I know it’s coming. The three-thousand pound weight on my skull and the small monster doing flips in my stomach are sure signs of impending doom. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like this if I stopped drinking after one pitcher of vodka-soda last night.
You heard me. Pitcher. Yes, they served me a well drink in a container akin to a small child’s bucket in size. A very drunk child’s bucket, I suppose. And that made for a very drunk me.
Two pitchers in, I went to the same bar where I pick up all of my men, because why waste a good thing? It was bumping and I found myself a new love interest within minutes. Funny how attracted you are to everyone at a bar once you’ve thrown back a bucket or two of vodka.
I went home with new guy because – let’s face it – I have become kind of a slut. When I woke up, I remembered almost nothing about him. As such, I switched into detective mode. I looked up and saw that the fan was nice, which led me to believe the apartment was fairly high-class and he made good money. Point for new guy. I kept scanning, doing my detective work… and then I saw it. A backpack. Maybe he takes it to work, I thought. But then I saw the bookshelf full of textbooks.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did I just sleep with a college student?
My brain went into temporary panic and my headache doubled in size as I thought about him passing notes in class about how he banged an older woman.
It wasn’t until I saw his bulletin board that the shock subsided. I have never been so excited to see a class schedule in my life, because this one was labeled “Evening MBA.” Angels were singing when I read those beautiful words. God does love me, after all.
So turns out I slept with a full-grown 27 year old man who has a job and direction in life. Praise the Lord. It will be interesting to see if things go anywhere with this guy. The sex was nothing to write home about (plus I think my parents would be a little disturbed if I was writing them letters about my sex life), but the cuddling was phenomenal. It was the perfect amount of affection without being creepy, and included free scalp massages. How’s that for an unexpected treat? When I sat up to drink water, he even gave me a back rub. I kind of want to keep him in my new place like a pet. We can cuddle on the couch during weeknights and he can give me scalp massages and back rubs. Everybody wins, right?
Anyone else have a crazy weekend, or was I the only lonely slut?