Saturday, September 6, 2008

Soaking It

Being dry at muffin and papa's boozefest was actually okay. I was just sick of thinking/talking about sobriety, so when I met up with John and he suggested getting a drink, I just went along with it. I didn't feel like explaining again why the hell I find it necessary to extend a few days of detox into a month-long test of my sanity. So we boozed.

He took me to a bunch of sweet spots in the Lower East Side, including Home Sweet Home at Delancey and Chrystie, and Black and White, where I actually ran into someone I used to work with in San Francisco. The other two bars I'd been to before.

John insisted on paying for everything, which threw me off. We ended the night with a bottle of nice champagne and tequila shots at the same bar where my accidental date had ended badly with papa the day after his birthday. It was kind of funny. John also happens to work in the same office as Boy, the young'un I dated for a hot minute last year.

I felt like absolute shit this morning, but my sore throat/swollen lymph nodes were completely cleared up. I don't understand why not drinking makes me sick. Honest to god, I'd been downing ibuprofen since Monday because my throat was killing me. This morning I had a horrible dream after John and I had sex; I dreamt that he had to get up to go to a beer festival and he put his fictitious roommate in bed with me in his underwear and I thought to myself, "oh god, I'm too hungover to fuck this guy too." I think I have a really messed up relationship with sex. When I checked my messages I had a text from Curly timestamped at a quarter past two in the morning.

What the shit? He is driving me crazy! How can I take a guy seriously when he only texts me late night? I hope he gets a firm grasp of his balls soon and fucken calls me sometime. Then again he might be trying to post me up for another bait-and-switch with Red, whom apparently EVERYONE hates. I just never got that vibe of evil and insecurity that everyone else picked up on. These Williamsburg boys! Maybe I should embrace the NYC dating protocol of only dating guys who live within a seven-block radius of me. However, the last time that happened, I couldn't even vomit the next day. But I would really love to go out with Curly sometime. Boy juggling is a necessary distraction right now.

John and I are going out again Wednesday, and I am climbing my boozed ass back on the wagon today.

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