Sunday, Jan. 16, 2005 - 8:51 a.m.

7:12 a.m. Not quite used to New York radiator-type heat I woke up a bit groggy to the sound of pipes hissing and spiting sounding like a cat having been cornered by Korean kitchen help.

7:13 a.m. Shit, I�m not groggy I�m hung-over. Rolling onto my left side I find myself looking at the dude next to me in bed and realize it wasn�t a dream. I really did fuck the astonishing hot guy with the killer smile, sexy blue eyes and sweet laugh that kept plying me with booze. But somehow that only seemed part of it, something else happened last night but my pounding head is preventing me from remembering. Did I commit a crime or get into a fight or tell everyone in the lounge that I had lost my virginity to Brady Bunch dad Robert Reed?

7:16 a.m. Not wanting to wake the guy I attempt to back my way out of bed little by little until my ass hits a blockade. My sluggish mind tries to interrupt what my butt is pushed against. Yes, the rest of last night hazily surfaces and I roll onto my right side for visual conformation. The guy on my left with the blue eyes, the knack for getting a bartender to pour heavy and the great idea that we take the party back to my place had a friend with him.

7:17 a.m. Sandwiched between All-American Guy and All-Greek Guy it�s hard not to smile as the cognitive process of remembering returns with force. Before shimmying out from between them I say a prayerful thank-you to God for all that occurred last night and, headache or no headache, allowing me to remember it vividly.

8:10 a.m. All-American Guy and All-Greek Guy still sleeping I decide to blog. Searching for any semblance of self-deprecation in order to recount my escapade I find it is just not there. I have no desire to find the guilt or the wrong or inappropriateness or diminish myself in order to twist last night into something less than it was.

8:15 a.m. I love New York and All-American guys who party with an All-Greek mentality.

�

previous - next