drunken post! (now, with edits!)

we'll see how comprehendable this is... this is simply not a word. using language that makes your sober self seek the dictionary in the morning will likely result in poor writing.

topic: sex (and don't hate...if you're anything like me, as a female, you're already scoffing at my topic...but i assure you that i'm not whore-ish.) way too many elipses here. maybe drunkenme was experimenting with morse code?

i enjoy going out and being social. but when i go out to a bar, there is the compulsion to look for a mate. and, recently, i've realized that this no longer interests me. this is better stated as "i have now understood why i am such a bitch to most men that approach me at a bar. unless he is hot. then he has a window of civility."

if you're a regular reader of my blog (read: if you're a friend of mine, or someone i stalk on the Internet), you know that i'm sexually starving and that i think i'm at my peak for sexual desire. (so, there's no need for you to read anymore of this. i'm sorry you've gotten this far.) yet, when i go out, simply finding someone to "hook up" with is not my goal. i'm embarrassed to have used the term hook-up. even more embarrassed that it's in quotes. i'm certain drunkenme would have gone as far as finger-quoting that term after typing it. actually, i have no goals when i'm out other than getting a nice buzz and avoiding the police. well, this is just a lie. i love talking to the police when i'm drunk. seriously. and i'm always staring at those that drive by at 5 mph to see if it's the one cop i know from work. this bizarre behavior on my part has resulted in several instances of paranoid drives home because one of the cars i'd spooked was following me home.

last night i ran into two ex-boyfriends of mine. i kissed one of them. let's get a fucking sigh of relief that i spared the details. and i hate that i did that. good to see i'm remorseful when drunk. i believe that's what differentiates a drunk girl and a whore, right? i'm not interested in having casual sex. even casual make-outs do nothing for me. like, at all. i can arouse myself to that point on my own. sorry. this is so so bad.

i miss intimacy. i haven't had that in SO FUCKING LONG. *smile* so, the song Desperado just loaded on my mind's musical rotation. excellent, drunkenme.

and i think my deprivation is becoming obvious to those who know me well...and they tell me that i'm pretty enough to have a boyfriend. which is true...i mean, females generally hold the upper hand in that department anyway, regardless of their looks. i'm failing myself simply on organization alone. clearly, this particular rant of self-pity mixed with sef-cheerleading is out of place.

so, what am i saying? i'm not sure. it's a drunken post that consists of me whining, primarily. i think drunkenme is onto something.

in summation: for those of you that have boyfriends that you LOVE, don't get bored and don't get restless. love is fanfuckingtastic. and you'll miss it so much if you let it go. and yeah, that includes sex, of course, but not in the carnal sense. right. such the philosopher. horrible advice, by the way. don't listen to me.

i guess i really am just proclaiming to cyberspace that i'd like a boyfriend. that's lovely. quite.

essentially, there is no story here. my story should have been about spending the evening with my aunts and their friends, in true desperate housewife fashion. or even just about how awful the band was. watching fireworks off the back of the boat. the humidity of early June. rediscovering Corona. the patterns and tendencies of inebriated West Point boys. flip-flops and miniskirts.

this won't happen again.