Oh, lord above.
Last night, I went out drinking with my darling friend from my hall, who absolutely adores me, and was the first living human being I met here. She's a beautiful human being, too, in every way. A little quirky, which I like of course. She keeps asking me to stay here forever. I wish I could.
I left messages for my gentleman caller, which he did not reply to. We proceeded to get soused. We danced up a storm, like the hott chicks that we are (She is gorgeous - one of my man friends said "Your mate is beautiful!" It's true.)
And at the end of the evening, after about six or seven drinks (doesn't take much, though - the prozac makes me get really drunk really fast) I kissed a boy from my theology class who was all over me.
(What, indeed, would Jesus do?)
I followed him back to his place, where he made me tea, and fondled my thigh, and then I asked to be taken home. He was quite nice. But I'm not interested in him. I am really quite sweet on my gentleman caller, and his friends probably saw me, and I don't want to fuck shit up. I shouldn't have done that. Oh, I shouldn't have.
I shouldn't have. But I did, and hopefully I will confess it and my sins will be absolved. Or something like that.
My friend Jessie was startled and amused to hear me curse so much.
Oh, I am sweet on him, but I have no idea where I stand with him most of the time. I sit around and worry that tomorrow he will tell me to fuck off. I hope he won't. I'm sad that his friends saw me kiss another boy, not because we're an item and it's cheating or anything, but because it's just tremendously, utterly tacky. Oh, how tacky.
My welsh becomes so fabulous when I'm drunk, it's not even funny.
2003-02-13, I have to stay here forever
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