(no subject)
I know I should stop, but I really enjoy it.
Went to a country bar about three blocks away from my apartment last night. I was feeling a bit homesick, so Anne and I decided it was time for me to teach her about my redneck roots. Live country band, cold beer, good dance floor -- I love the place.
Met a guy. 26, lives in Waterloo (yeah, same one I was at last weekend), PhD student. Hot as hell, and didn't care that I'm about 7 years younger. Danced for a while, had some drinks, had some more drinks, danced some more. Basically drank and danced until last call. He invited me back to where he was staying, and I went. Whatever -- not like it's the first time lately. So I went with him back to his buddy's apartment.
The guy is amazing.
I'll spare the three (possibly two) people that will ever read this the gory details. Suffice to say that it was exactly what I like, except for the whole "best friend screwing up his hookup so living room becomes public thoroughfare" part. And exactly what I like is actually a really REALLY rare find. Hell, even sleeping was exactly perfect -- warm and very strong. Protected, I guess is a passable word for it, although with a slightly more controlled undertone. Both of my exes (yeah, only two) intensely disliked what I like -- they're both romantics in the most hypocritical sense of the word, expecting love on both sides of the equation, unless they find someone better, in which case it's OK if there is no love on their side as long as it's on mine. Love is not something I need, and at this point it's not something I even want. Just a good time with a hot guy who is willing to play. He drove me home this morning and everything -- charming too underneath it all. I was very pleasantly surprised.
Trouble is, this is becoming a habit for me. Go out to the bar, pick up some random guy, go to his place (because I really don't like people knowing where I live), spend the night and some of the morning, and then come home to my amazed and impressed roommate. She doesn't do this sort of thing, says it's not her personality, but seems to derive some type of enjoyment from living vicariously through me. And I'm not sure whether it's a bad thing that I look for temporary "relationships" under the influence of alcohol and get so much enjoyment from it. No feelings, no promises, no strings. Just two people and a lot of anaerobic glycolysis end products.
I almost miss the two-way street of being in love. Except this is so much less complicated and never hurts me.
Went to a country bar about three blocks away from my apartment last night. I was feeling a bit homesick, so Anne and I decided it was time for me to teach her about my redneck roots. Live country band, cold beer, good dance floor -- I love the place.
Met a guy. 26, lives in Waterloo (yeah, same one I was at last weekend), PhD student. Hot as hell, and didn't care that I'm about 7 years younger. Danced for a while, had some drinks, had some more drinks, danced some more. Basically drank and danced until last call. He invited me back to where he was staying, and I went. Whatever -- not like it's the first time lately. So I went with him back to his buddy's apartment.
The guy is amazing.
I'll spare the three (possibly two) people that will ever read this the gory details. Suffice to say that it was exactly what I like, except for the whole "best friend screwing up his hookup so living room becomes public thoroughfare" part. And exactly what I like is actually a really REALLY rare find. Hell, even sleeping was exactly perfect -- warm and very strong. Protected, I guess is a passable word for it, although with a slightly more controlled undertone. Both of my exes (yeah, only two) intensely disliked what I like -- they're both romantics in the most hypocritical sense of the word, expecting love on both sides of the equation, unless they find someone better, in which case it's OK if there is no love on their side as long as it's on mine. Love is not something I need, and at this point it's not something I even want. Just a good time with a hot guy who is willing to play. He drove me home this morning and everything -- charming too underneath it all. I was very pleasantly surprised.
Trouble is, this is becoming a habit for me. Go out to the bar, pick up some random guy, go to his place (because I really don't like people knowing where I live), spend the night and some of the morning, and then come home to my amazed and impressed roommate. She doesn't do this sort of thing, says it's not her personality, but seems to derive some type of enjoyment from living vicariously through me. And I'm not sure whether it's a bad thing that I look for temporary "relationships" under the influence of alcohol and get so much enjoyment from it. No feelings, no promises, no strings. Just two people and a lot of anaerobic glycolysis end products.
I almost miss the two-way street of being in love. Except this is so much less complicated and never hurts me.