After a few days of readjustment, of early nights and baths and reading, I'm back to my old self. Going to the Cantab for Pomes on Wednesday helped.
Today is my first day off in eight days. Last night out and getting wasted, happy to be 25 and pretty and independent, whatever that means. Ugly men buy me drinks, offer to take me to steak, to take me bowling, and I'm drunk so I say yes, but none of them are even close to my type so I will avoid them if they try to call me in my sober state. I want steak but I really don't want to have sex with this guy and steak + wine = expected BJ at least. At least that's what someone told me once.
This bald orc-like man follows Andy and me outside while I'm trying to give him Confidential Girl Advice. This man says he is thirty six, but looks at least ancient, and he once worked with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which is all I find interesting about him. He's hammered and grabs my crotch, so I punch him in the balls and he cowers and leaves.
This fellow who is not my type buys me two whiskeys and two mudslides, which are pretty with chocolate sauce drizzled in martini glasses. He asks if I can tell what the last whiskey he buys me is, and I sip and say Maker's Mark and I am correct.
I am thinner than I once was and cannot hold my alcohol as well. Andy knows the bartender and we get free tiramisu.
This morning there is misty haze over the lake as I take my walk of shame. Birds sing and squirrels jump around all in front of me in the woods and fields. I smile and say good morning to the middle aged women out speed-walking. My head hurts. Life is beautiful.