And you are?

So here it goes… my personal grievance with myself from this last weekend…

I slowly began to squint my eyes open Sunday morning, my head moaning in between my ears, while simultaneously seemingly to near implosion. Bright light in my face (why oh why do I insist on forgetting to shut my blinds during the weekend) I looked ahead and hanging from my bookshelf was the penis flag that M&M had tucked away in one of the pockets of my bag last weekend (packed along with an ample supply of condoms and such). That cad. I told him what a joke, it had been so long I was claiming virginity again…. oh if I had a nickel…

As I began to slowly, and painfully fall back into reality, I looked over to see a bottle of Champagne sitting on my night stand, however the view was horribly blocked by a large lump in my bed. Oh. My. God… No. I. Didn’t.

Fuck... yes. I. did.

I panicked, attempting to find anything near me that I could throw on… where were my clothes?!? Heaven forbid he see me nekked. I grabbed last night’s shirt and some pants sitting in the dirty laundry near my bed and scampered into LJ’s room. What had I done??? As I crawled into her bed, she asked me if I had a guy in there. Lord, yes. I did. Who was he? Oh Lord, I don’t know.

Trying to put together the beer, wine and vodka puzzle from the previous night, I tried to figure out how I could get him the hell out of my house…

I have never hooked up with a completely random guy before. I remember recognizing him as a customer from my mexi restaurant (my only justification that he wasn’t a complete random) as I walked into a bar in town, and he asked me to dance. A few minutes later he asked if I wanted to go to the Boom-Boom Room (biggest gay bar ever) to dance. As LJ, my roommate put it, “Little did he know that he met the one girl in OC whose way to her heart is through a gay bar”. Arg.

I went to the bathroom, and on my return to LJ’s bed, I noticed that he was fully clothed and sitting on the edge of my bed. Thank God. He wanted to leave too. I went in, and instead of quickly saying goodbye, he sat there for half an hour talking about his life, what he wants from a relationship… all the while I am mentally racking my brain attempting to figure out what the hell his name was and why he won’t leave my house.

Finally after not participating in the conversation the way that he would have liked, he began to leave – although it took longer than necessary to get out the front door of my house, as he slowly strolled through my place continuing to talk… leaving his phone number on the way out. Thank God I know his name now.

Needless to say, I was more than a little mortified at the beginning of this week (slowly but surely recovering from my indiscretions). Of course I had to call my mama immediately the following morning to tell her what had happened. (My way of repentance…) Isn’t she glad and proud to have me for a daughter…