mistake number one through five thousand

Okay here goes... so last night, no Tuesday night - the "after work get together turned black out" night - I fucked up. I get it, I'm flawed, but even worse than that is the fact that I just don't learn from my mistakes! I'm a terrible drunk dialer. More often it's drunk texting, oh what has our generation become, but Tuesday night was a combination of the two.

And I cried. At the bar... to a stranger. What is wrong with me? I honestly think this is a sign of something worse than my drunkenness... like a sign that I need to see a therapist. STAT! I'll get to the crying later.

First, the drunk texts. Not only did I text the boy who I saw Saturday who had promised me he'd call later this week - hello? When a guy says he'll call later in the week it is FAR too early to accuse him of not calling on TUESDAY! Tuesday is not later this week. Whoops. I did. Poor Pete. And this isn't German lover boy, this is a few years older used to go to college good friends with my older sister and her friends Pete. This is blonde Pete. I never date blondes. This is sweet, kind, actually a good human being, likes to volunteer and is going to law school Pete. AND HE'S SINGLE! Finally, I'm not throwing myself into the arms (or towards the groin) of an unavailable man! Precious Pete!

So Saturday we hang out (not by ourselves, this was by pure chance) and get to talking and catching up a little, considering it's been two years since I've seen him.

UGH pause... my co-workers just asked me to join them in a "company lunch." Since when do we have lunch together? HELLO! I have more important things to do.. like blog about Pete, and Ryan, and fjdlkajfd be back in 30.

Ah surprisingly fun lunch.. okay, so Pete... we're drunk on Saturday, he seems excited that I'm living back in this city, asks for my number and promises he'll call later this week so we can get together! Fast forward to Tuesday night, I'm drunk again and fucking text the kid... I did so using a hint of sarcasm, I believe my text said: "Tuesday night and no call? Just kidding, but seriously you ought to call me this weekend so we can meet up!"

Idiot.

Luckily he doesn't seem too annoyed by my impatience and responds happily with "Aah you beat me to the punch. What are you doing Thursday? Should we get a drink? I'll call you tomorrow."

Wooohoooo so my drunk texting doesn't get me in too much trouble, just makes me look like a desperate (I am), impatient (I am), Tuesday night drunk... (I was).

Next idiot move... I scroll through my phonebook and land on Ryan P. Ryan P. (not asshole, drunk sex, ruined friendship Ryan) has expressed his legitimate love for me since 6th grade. I, being the kind of girl who really, truly, only wants what I can't have (which makes me worried about Pete, does this mean secretly I know I'll never have a chance?), strongly disliked little immature, annoying Ryan P. until... Christmas of last year. Naturally, although this man is no joke, the most beautiful man I have ever seen (think Tom Brady meets Rob Kardashian... he's a looker) I didn't necessarily take to him and his good looks until, well, he was unavailable. Christmas time came around and one of my girlfriends told us all that she and Ryan P. had been "talking a lot, like all semester" HELLO HE WAS IN AUSTRALIA!! (oh god, I'm such a hypocrite, this is exactly what I'm doing with German lover boy!!!!) Anyways, I knew better. Ryan P. talked, online, to anyone who would listen while he was in Australia... anyone. I ignored him for a solid 3 months... he's the kind of kid who will IM you and say "Hey" - you respond - he says "What's up?" and then there is silence... it's pointless.

So I know that this budding relationship with Ryan P. and my girlfriend is shit. She is just over excited and the first night we run into him at the bars he immediately dismisses her and informs her "ugh... it wasn't like that, I guess we weren't on the same page." She was slightly frustrated, but not heartbroken, and suddenly... I realize that Ryan P. may actually be desirable. Only now that I see there is competition, of course.

We chat occasionally during the spring, summer rolls around and I try, I mean... I really tryyyyy to like the kid. When we're out I engage (or attempt to) in conversation and there is just nothing. Nothing. The kid is like a brick wall. A really, really, nice looking brick wall. Okay so, the more and more I try, the more and more I think maybe if I just give in and make out with him you know, mayyyybe I’ll feel something.

The night that I finally go home with him just happened to be the night a kid from work was hanging all over me at the bar so maybe Ryan only likes what he can’t have too? Anywho… I go home with him and have a fucking BLAST! Like, a blast. We were literally rolling around in bed all night making out… like high school kids. We didn’t have sex. We didn’t (that I can remember) do anything, except make out. WHAT A RELIEF! What a great feeling. To wake up smiling next to an incredibly cute, and apparently kind, sweet in bed man. And I didn’t have to regret having unprotected, drunk sex, with a kid I didn’t even like talking to… like normal.

Then I find out he has a girlfriend.

Okay, honestly I found out like 2 days before we hooked up – I’m telling you, I really only like what I can’t have, damn it… But he completely denied they were “official.” What are you, actually still in 6^th grade? Your best friend calls her your girlfriend, your little sister calls her your girlfriend, your entire posse of best and closest lady friends call this girl your girlfriend. You’re official… you just don’t care enough right now to pass up a hook up with the girl you’ve loved since 6^th grade.

I liked the attention. I took it, kill me. Playing the home wrecker is not new to me. At least I didn’t sleep with him, right?

Then we hook up again. He is all of a sudden fun. We can talk freely and openly about everything, as if we’ve known each other forever… I guess we have, makes sense. And he is just fun! We laugh, we go out to breakfast the next day and sit on the outdoor patio of an adorable restaurant downtown and aaaaaah my heart is aching.

He’s another woman’s man. I’m the fling. Like always. Fuck.

He drove back to college (oh yea… he’s younger than me, eeeeeeeek) that same day and we have hardly talked since. He lives next door to his girlfriend, he obviously is with her and has far too many things to think about (girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend) to continue talking to me so he is suddenly out of my love life as quickly as he came into it.

Tuesday night? I text him: “Ryaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.”

Hello drunky, mcdrunkster. As if that text isn't screaaaming I'm drunk and wish you were here to hook up with me. Welp, ladies and gents, that's pretty much what I explicitly state in the next texts. If my roommates weren't so nosy (and also my best friends who love to creep) and hadn't forced me to erase my inbox and outbox the following morning I would share with you the entire conversation that continued for about 2 hours...

It had a lot of me wiiiishing oh so much that I had told him my feelings long ago, and lots of me begging for him to come visit (whaaat?!!!) and pleaaading that we should try the "us" thing.

Who the hell am I and what was I thinking?! This is Ryan P... remember the brick wall? The kid who I couldn't even hold a 2 minute conversation with until I decided to make him my summer fling?

Embarrassing.

I apologized the next morning (via one very miserable text) and haven't heard from him. So! There's another one out the door.

What else did I do Tuesday night?

Oh yeah! ... I CRIED.

In the bar. To a stranger. In my defense, he was a doctor so was pretty damn good at playing the life coach therapist role... but I can't remove all fault from myself... I brought up the sob stories and the oh life is so tough talk...

That wasn't about guys at least. My brother died 4 years ago and it's still a hugely, unresolved issue but come on... keep it in private? I cried in a mother fucking bar... again.

I'm always that girl, for one reason or another.

Luckily this little sob fest happened with a stranger and I think my guy friends were all too drunk to notice.

morning after damage control

I'm really big on damage control, but more often than not I try to fix my screw ups and actually just make things worse.

Remember how I was all hot to trot about going out after work last night? Terrible idea. Okay, not a terrible idea, it was really fun, but it’s normal for me that a “really fun night” comes with some pretty heavy consequences. I’m a fucking idiot.

One might wonder: how many things could I possibly regret doing on a Tuesday night? When you’re a twenty something, drunk, somewhere on a Tuesday night… the answer is way too many.

With each mistake I feel more and more like a character out of an Anna Maxted book. I AM an Anna Maxted character. Give me a British accent and I’d fit the mold perfectly. Anyways, I can’t wait to share all my idiot moves from last night… but for now I’m going home.

Yes, it's only 1:15p and I’m leaving work because apparently everyone in the office bought my 7:00a email, short and to the point, lacking enough details so that everyone would be crawling with sympathy:

Hi all, I woke up around 3a with a full blown migraine so I am coming in late today.

Well “late” turned into 12:30p and I swear 5 minutes had not even passed before every single employee managed to look pathetically at me and say “oh my god why’d you even bother coming in? you must feel terrible” or “oooh my, hunny, why don’t you just go home?” or “are you feeling any better? No? didn't think so you look like you’re about to cry” or my favorite, the always dreaded comment “oooh, you don’t look so good.” No shit sherlock, I'm hungover as hell.

Oh that's right they think I'm mid migraine. Either I’m a really good actress or this hangover is shining right through my makeup and cute outfit day because this migraine free girl actually does look like shit… so I’m told.

But, point is I’m not passing up this opportunity to head home! After a long, 45 minute work day. Hey, you can’t be given the green light from every, single employee to go home and “get back in bed” and not take it, can you?

As soon as I’m home, back in bed, I’ll work up the courage to share with you all the idiotic drunk texts, messages, calls I made last night…

sex changes everything, doesn't it?

So here we go, what should be a great weekend recap is... well, not. Sex seriously ruins everything. Everything and everyone. I hate it. True statement there... I haven't had sex and enjoyed it, really, actually enjoyed it in so long that it's pathetic. It's pathetic because I know better - I know that if I dislike having sex so much of the time, it probably means I shouldn't be sleeping with these people.

It ruined things with Ryan, that's for sure. We had so much going between the two of us... so many years of history. An awesome friendship. Mystery. Innocence. A secret emotion just between the two of us. SO MUCH that I wanted to hold onto, without RUINING it by sleeping together. Needless to say, we slept together. It doesn't matter that we were both wasted. It didn't matter that the next morning we were both terrified by what we had just done. Months before when we hooked up, it felt INCREDIBLE to not have sex... we had a night that was perfect. Perfect hooking up, perfect cuddling, perfect PDA and perfect time alone, literally rolling around in the bed, laughing like stupid little school children. The innocence that I felt, and that he even said he knew kept us together - well it was ruined by one stupid drunk night.

And the sex wasn't even good.

It was so not even good, that I slept with him again. Another night. Drunk. After we fought.

Logical? No, not at all.

Anywhoooooo, that put an end to whatever messed up, confusing, relationship we had going on. Sex changes things, whether it ruins things or perfects things, it changes things. And until I'm in a relationship that is ready to be quote unquote perfected, I'm putting my money on the fact that drunk sex with people who don't adore me... will... ruin things.

Where's this going? Friday night. Really drunk, obviously... as I was going out with Elena and Lauren and the three of us together have quite the habit of pregaming too hard, and going out too hard. A few bottles of wine, one power hour, three shots and a cab ride (during which we finished a water bottle full of vodka) later... I arrive at my new favorite bar - absolutely wasted.

I somehow manage to be shady the whole night (the word 'whole' is up for debate here, considering I left the bar at 12:50, but we'll get there in a second). My friends are all downstairs dancing, drinking and I'm sure having fun. What am I doing? I don't know... I really don't but they told me the next day that I was not with them. Your guess is as good as mine. However my inbox/outbox tells me that I continued to text Adam with whom I had texted for most of the evening... and around 12:30 I get a call. Adam's going back to his neck of the woods and not coming to the bar we are at after all. Shit, I had really wanted to meet up with him. Have no fear, he tells me to just catch a cab to his house.

Like an idiot, I do. I don't have any cash in my wallet. He tells me he'll meet the cab outside and pay for my cab. Does this make me a prostitute? Or just make him a nice guy? The answer is yet to be determined. However considering the fact that before I got in the cab I stopped at an ATM and took out $60 because a tiny, itsy bit of me didn't trust that he would meet me outside and pay leads me to think he may not be such a nice guy after all. Damn it, trust your instincts. No, no, no... I think he is a nice guy? He's always been so sweet.

Okay so my cab gets lost, we eventually make it. Adam does in fact meet us outside, pays the cab driver for my fare (or my services... kidding of course) and we go hang out inside.

Hanging out turns to making out and hooking up and the next thing I know (but don't fully remember) we're naked at at that point where we're going to start having sex.

Before I continue.. Adam and I used to hook up pretty regularly, but if you notice in my first post... he's not a notch on my belt. For all the times we hooked up we never had sex! And he never even came close to trying. Which made our relationship have that same dreaded, waiting to be ruined, "innocence." Adam was always the fun hook up, the really sweet guy who would just hang out, like really just hang out and hook up, make out and cuddle. UGH if only I could preserve that in a glass jar (unfortunately glass jars can break right?) So when I realize all of a sudden (okay I need to stop talking like I'm a victim here, I know I was pulling his hips closer to mine, I was there too...) that we're having sex (and it's actually enjoyable)...

here it comes...

I push him enough away from me and...

start crying?

Yea, I don't know why. I don't know where it came from, perhaps the few bottles of wine, one power hour, three shots and a cab ride during which we finished a water bottle full of vodka had something to do with it... but I cried! IDIOT. Poor kid had no idea what just happened. If only I could have snapped out of my drunkness just for one second to tell him calm down, don't worry, I'm just wasted.. and hey that was feeling pretty damn good. Unfortunately that didn't happen and I just continued sobbing quietly to myself, leaving him utterly confused and probably wishing he hadn't dropped $25 on this head case's cab (yeah, that's me I'm referring to.)

I end up calling or texting Elena, she picks me up, drives us home.

The end.

Hellooooo damage control the next morning. But in situations like this, I almost always just make it worse. Maybe I should have let it be.. not brought it up, left Adam to be confused and just got on with life knowing damn well that he now completely and entirely knows of my basket case-ness. Ehhh, see I still think he's such the perfect guy. He even managed to say some pretty sweet, perfect things the night before amidst my sobs and snotty nose.

So I text him. Try and make up for the night before with a hint of "ooooh man, I feel like such an idiot.. I'm so sorry for calling you a fucking asshole?" (Oh yea, on my way out I may have dropped the you're such a fucking asshole line before I slammed the door.) Truth is - he is the farthest thing from an asshole. He didn't pressure me, he didn't force anything and yes I'm sure I was asking probably begging for everything. That's not the point. In response to my text he even apologizes (for WHAT Adam?!!! I was just wasted, I'm the idiot here who should be apologizing). I think I'm in the clear after a few texts back and forth so I give him the "Can we try meeting up again sometime soon? Preferably not when I'm so wasted" text and his response?

Ladies and gents, the reason why sex in fact ruins everything... He says back, via text message the morning after:

"Yea, sure."

Man does he sound enthusiastic.
Not.