Last night I learned…

…she’s definitely an alcoholic. I had to carry her out of the pub. She’d missed my calls, despite the phone sitting beside her on the bar. She was supposed to text me when she was finished her pint.

I’d made her promise not to drink shots anymore after she was assaulted on her way home, a night I wasn’t with her, after shots. It was only a little scuffing of the eye though. The gang were really after the guy that had walked her home thinking his luck was in; they only threw her to the ground. I think I might actually owe that gang a debt of gratitude.

When I arrived last night she was sitting chatting to a guy she’d just met and her friends were gone. She’d been drinking shots. She was legless.

I put her to bed. I put her to bed twice actually, picking her up after she’d rolled onto the floor. I slept in the spare room. She was suprised to wake up alone. She wept when I told her she’d chosen the company of a stranger over me. She’d really chosen another drink or several over me though.

I told her to stay in her place tonight. Tomorrow I’ll meet her. She has another chance.

Thus far the language of apology already sounds

a little too practiced.

The girl in the little gold dress

I went clubbing last weekend with friends. Had a few drinks. Danced badly a bit. Met a girl. Stunning. Beautiful eyes, short sexy dark hair, dark skin, not too thin with curves in the right places, short gold dress. The sort of girl who demanded attention in a room. She fixated on me in the way that girls like that never do. To the point of throwing herself at me. I could quite easily have taken her home I think even with my sometimes inaccurate reading of situations like this. My friends both male and female were convinced on consultation. I was lonely and horny and shocked. When the end of the night came I avoided her and went home by myself. Afterwards I thought over why I did that when I could have had a night of what most guys go to nightclubs for with the sort of girl most guys go to nightclubs hoping against hope to go home with. There were three situations involved. One: she was young probably nineteen or twenty at most but I don’t know she could have been younger. Two: she was very, very drunk to the point where she at times needed to hold on to me to stand up. Three: I’ve reached a point in my life where adolescent sexual fantasy no longer holds sway over me and all I feel when I wake up next to someone I don’t know is emptiness and a hole inside me that noone can fill regardless of how much pleasure someone has brought me or how much I have brought to them in return. All I want is to wake up next to someone who looks at me and makes my heart stop beating. I don’t know who that is. She may not exist. I don’t know what happened in the club but I think it has exposed a raw nerve. I walked away when almost everyone else would have not. What is wrong with me?

Rose-Tinted.

I suspect the things I find cute and endearing about her now, in the nascent few months, are the very things that will annoy me about her in a few years.