Sunday, February 3, 2008

drank o'clock

I don't understand this new function of getting older where I am pretty much unable to sleep past eleven a.m., no matter how drunkenly and late/early I collapse into bed. Then I wake up drunk, wanting simultaneously to both go for a jog and eat everything in sight while systematically doing a sobriety check for the previous evening's events, to make sure everything lines up in drunk vision.

I got off on a cradle-robbing foot earlier in the day when I saw a cute boy from one of my classes in the library. I asked him if he was an architecture student like the most of them, and he revealed himself as an undergrad. This revelation put me on edge for some reason. When I got out of the library I called Ex, the original younger man. I hadn't talked to him since the half-assed cocaine intervention, and I miss him. I miss him more when I am in these schizo moods.

After killing time playing the accordion with Beauty, we went down to the Lower East Side, where I spent the next several hours wandering around with a bottle of Sauza, alienating most people I came into contact with. My Friend showed up to this school-people gathering with a girl, putting me in this ridiculously insecure mood of hostility and urgency to become drunk. I became absorbed with the task of making all the food at the party in order to decrease the risk of me being a complete asshole. Then I left the party with My Friend, his female friend, after towing out a fellow student, who then wondered if we were being assholes by leaving. Then he felt bad, so he left us leaving, and went home.

Ask me again why I hate the group dynamic.

At Library I lost track of My Friend and had one of those long, enthusiastic drunk conversations with someone that you wouldn't ever be able to recall in a million years after getting up to go to the bathroom. That's when I met a cute boy, in the bathroom line. When I emerged from the stall he asked me if I wanted to go get something to eat, so I left My Friend and his friends, and joined new guy...and two of his friends.

It wasn't until I encountered his two friends that I realized how young this lad was who had picked me up in the bathroom. These days when I find myself surrounded by people who are closer to 20 than 30, I either want to sleep with them or give them some milk and cookies before sending them away. I had wanted to sleep with the original boy, but after some French toast and some QT with his milk-and-cookie friends, I found myself in a happy, sexless state. And that's when I wanted to be with My Friend, who I had haplessly ditched earlier in the night. Sigh.

Oh, Girlfriend, if you're reading this...I gave him your phone number. Yours and someone else's. He's going to San Francisco for something and doesn't know anyone there. He's a nice guy. His name was Bill. He probably won't call, because he'll be embarrassed to be under 21.

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