Last night, on craigslist date 9.1, I decided it would be a good idea to take everything I know about drinking and throw it out the window. It involved whiskey, a bottle of $7 champagne, Coors Light, and two separate fast food pitstops that I have not indulged in about ten years, namely KFC and McDonald's.
I'm going to call this guy Mick. He just moved here SATURDAY from San Francisco, and I actually met him via craig a few weeks ago, and I kind of forgot about him. He's about my height (short), Peruvian, a nice guy. We chatted, and I felt kind of bored for a while, and was fascinated by this guy sitting next to us at the bar. Actually, I was fascinated with his drink, which was bar peanuts floated in a glass of Budweiser. The peanuts kept dropping to the bottom, then floating back up, like they were goldfish. I've never seen peanuts move like that, so free-spirited.
After many drinks, we delved into heavy topics ranging from self-mutilation to enduring friendships. It kind of weirds me out when someone tells me something that they've never told anyone else, or that only their one close friend knows about. I inspire trust in people, I suppose. Later he became infatuated with me and he was telling me that it was fate that he moved all the way across the country just to meet me, and we made out a little and I felt all love drowsy (some would call it just plain drunk). He became very insistent upon seeing me home, which is about 80 blocks from his home. At this point I became bitchy and a little fearful, and it took some firm ground-standing to force him off the train a stop after his.
I got home a little before three a.m., three hours after my target return time, and had to get up at a few hours later to attend an all-day conference. I was so hungover that not only did I think I was going to throw up on the subway, I thought I was going to shit myself. I've never had that feeling before, and let me tell you, it's not a good one.