i think i am getting to be sober enough that i need to start retelling the horrible truths that are me when i am drinking. today is around the same time that i started drinking again, after the first time i had quit. everything was fine for the first few weeks. then i think we all know what happens. we realize we can not drink like normal… hundreds of dollars and usually a binge week later we try it again. we sweat it out and look back on bad decisions without understanding how we got there. why we are there and how do we really get out. this time for good… this time…
tonight’s dateline hit really close to home. it was about young women who were raped and murdered after heading home alone intoxicated. i used to start drinking after work at the bar close by. many of us would go. but i would stay… waking up the next morning in my bed with my my work clothes and the light on still. this bar was by my old job, not my house. at the time i worked on the beach, which is about an hour on the train, so it wasn’t like i was catching a cab home. besides, anyone who knows sf, knows it’s impossible to get a ride all the way down by the beach. i was your classic drunk, i’ve woken up with coworkers or other people in my bed. not knowing anything i said to them, or what we really did. they had to have known i was wasted, maybe they were just as wasted?
someone i really liked while still drinking text me the other day… he said he went into BLANK (don’t want to put what bar i used to work at on blast) and it made him think of me. that he missed me. he was a genuinely awesome guy. i really liked him. even drunk we would mess around and i wouldn’t let him finger me or anything. even drunk i hated myself. and what is funny, is that through all of my drunk sexual experiences, i never got anything out of it myself. did i really just want someone to spend time with me? pretend they liked me? there was a lot of dick sucking, which i guess is what drunk me thought would be best to prevent pregnancy? (thank god i did usually use condoms while blacked out.) i just wanted to make him happy… who ever he was… he must be the man of my dreams, right?
long story short i didn’t reply. there was no point.
messyarts 