6 PM
6:30 PM
7:30 PM
8PM: Scotch Round 2
Much as I tend to these days. I drank heavily last night. At six, I was three coffees deep. At seven, I started with two beers. At eight, I broke out the scotch. I felt a little sick of the week I was having, and I felt a little sick of the 28 days, and the preceding 365. I was feeling beyond sorry for myself so I called Amanda.
Amanda is the girl I knew in high school, college, and post college. Amanda is the girl who had put me through the ringer time after time after time. Amanda is the one I call when I feel like absolute shit, and not in the good way. She is everything I hate in a woman. Manipulative, bitchy, obnoxious, dumb, and so on. But the interesting fact is that, until last night, I did not hate myself enough to actually sleep with her. For years, I was the mouse and she was the pussy. She was the roadrunner to my coyote. Always coming two steps into my grasp, before leaving me with a cloud of Amanda-shaped dust. For a while there I was good about it, and got her out of my system. And to her, this made me all the more attractive.
I know I could have her, but I never wanted her. And three scotches deep I made the call. I hadn’t spoken to her aside from the occasional IM conversation in over a year, because I was with somebody, and frankly because I can only deal with her in doses.
When she stepped through my apartment door an hour later we didn’t talk much. We drank more than we spoke. And, honest to God, I got sick to my stomach after it. Not to be graphic, but the act itself almost made me vomit. I can hold my liquor, but I couldn’t hold her. After it was over I rushed to the bathroom and vomited. I told her it was the scotch, but I have not once in my life vomited from scotch. Before last night I never vomited from guilt and self-loathing either. Of course I’ve never been so sexually and morally disgusted either.
