I was visiting friends, and committed to intoxication. Without going all Gossip Girl, I am among some people that do not get along, so I divided up my time. How considerate.
After my darling hosts and I went to dinner on a Friday night, suddenly everyone in my phonebook was becoming mutually intoxicated and reminding me of what I do best. Being out of town, I really only wanted the attention of this one beautiful boy, The Painting. I call him "The Painting," because, as a painter, I know just how much emotion and beauty go into a painting. He is both complicated and beautiful. And one of my best successes in seduction.
We tried dating once, but to no avail, and he did hurt me emotionally, however I grew up far too much since then, and I now fancy him the way a therapist should not fancy their patient. I am attached to helping him, talking deep, but also constantly wanting to tumble around on a lofted bed.
I consolidated my text messages, and after an impromptu rave, complete with Jock Jams Volume 2 and glow sticks, my lovely hosts went to bed (as they still had commitments to reality.) I decided to meet The Painting with my flask. I did not plan for making any notches in my bedpost, but I would not have been upset by such. We met, and he took a drug.
And we walked and talked like we do, all honest, and reflective, and psychotheraputic, I met his soft-spoken room mate and sat of the floor of his dorm for all of 5 minutes. I thought maybe at least 2nd base? Still no. I started chugging away at a sugar-free Red Bull, as both my physical energy and seductive energy was running out. He now suggested he walk me back.
With all the walking my perfume was fading and my ego was slipping. I was losing my touch. Drunk I slyly reminded him of how attracted I was to him. He thanked me.
I am now set in his name being "The Painting". Paintings can't really love you back. They can just sit there on your wall and look all lovely and complicated. And in my mind he will forever be the little snapshot of his head hogging the blue pillow with his hair in his eyes all peaceful and sleeping. I sat down in the wet grass as he decided he would leave in 5 minutes. I was anxiously awaiting the moment where I could be alone and smoke, so I was blunt and asked,
"So, 5 minutes, anything you want to say?"
"It was nice seeing you. "
I stoop up slightly angry and hugged him goodbye. It was good enough for me, but not my ego.
My friend was waiting for me equally as drunk and ready to smoke, and hungry for Mexican food. We sat on the sidewalk of the apartment building and pretty much finished our packs and watched drunk people come and go.
There was an Asian being carried by 6 other Asians, for which I presumed was either for a sacrifice or his first time drinking. There was also a real wasted dude in a Captain Morgan shirt, to which he introduced himself, and shook my hand strangely.
My friend and I discussed food as a tall guy walked towards us. I asked him all drunk and polite if there was anywhere to get Mexican food close.
He kindly responded that he was also hungry and there was a Taco Bell quite close. He walked us there and it was closed. We attempted to walk through the drive-thru, but they ignored us, as that is never allowed. He mentioned that if we went back to his place he would order us Jimmy John's sandwiches. This sounded fine.
We plopped on his couch, and learned his name. We learned a hobby, and a mutual friend. We took shots. Our sandwiches arrived. We ate and my friend was ready to leave. The tall guy, having kept his hand on my leg during explanation of his talents, seemed to be building my ego. Either that or the vodka was. I told her I'd meet her there, as I was not yet tired.
The tall guy and I took another shot, to which he immediately vomited, and he used mouthwash, which I asked if I could also involve myself. He explained that I did that because I wanted to kiss him. I am not sure if that was true, but I knew my broken little ego wanted it.
The rest is kind of a blur. But I do remember black bedding, me losing my headband, and saying, "Would it be better if you pretended I was someone else?"
I left as he was falling asleep, running back to my host's apartment 3 doors down in only my tank top.
Even with an ego, I still have no self-worth. It made me laugh a little.
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