I can't get the dates right. I can't decide whether to write about AR or not. But I have. I have deleted my previous blog, and here he is now, the first entry, the only reincarnation of my first blog. It's not that I want to relive the longing and continually punish myself with it; it's really more of not forgetting the innocence of last night's celebration.
We just wanted to be around each other.
Take out the sex, his physical appeal and my hornyness --- what's left is an almost innocent, buddly-flick friendship.
This is what I want to remember.
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Over a smoke while standing outside the Library, I did tell Margie about last night. And she actually found it "cute." Safe. And I think it already is, safe, for us to see each other again. I can keep my pants (painfully) zipped. Nothing that beer can't cure.
Yes, alcohol keeps me more sane than usual. I'm a boring, square drunk that way. The bad fucks and the worse morning-after-the-fuck thing doesn't at all apply. It's when I'm alcohol free that I uhm misbehave. That's my reality. My alternate reality is when my head is spinning from too much rhum and 3 liters of Cable Car's draft, while thinking of ways of how to be good.
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