A night like any other night: sexually torn but knowing exactly what I wanted..

Saturday night (last night) was a fairly eventful night for me, to say the least, but I wouldn't say it was eventful in my favor. I had fun, don't get me wrong, but I was frustrated because I was literally torn between who to go home with. At the end of the day, it was a no-brainer, literally.

So, after about 6 months since I saw him last, my baby-daddy came down to Brampton to see our son for father's day weekend. Being a late Saturday, my baby-daddy's best friend and I decided to take him to a local bar after pre-drinking at my house, and so a night of drunken endeavors ensued thenceforth.

Went to Fionn MacCool's, the talent wasn't great, but hey, it was a fun night.
I spotted one of my childhood bestfriends and bought us both shots because it was his birthday last week. He insisted on buying me shots later on and like anyone else would, I took him up on the offer. Two cocktails, three glasses of beer, pornstars and two liquid cocaine shots later, I found myself conversing with a girl who randomly knows I'm in love with greek pasta salad about dancing like a hooker, having a pretty ravishing mack-sesh with the childhood bestfriend that I friend-zoned 7 years ago, then to be kissed by the greek-pasta girl... a couple times...and kind of enjoying it, then trying to establish whether I was cabbing home or cabbing to the boytoy's house after the bar and being absolutely torn between who I ought to go home with--rather, who I ought to sleep with that night..
I ended up taking a cab back to my house with the baby-daddy and his best friend, and after what only now seems to have been an awkward 10 minute cab-ride conversation about how both my baby-daddy and I filmed our sex with our most recent exes and then conversing about something regarding pig roasts before getting out of the cab, I went straight into my house ate some medley of shellfish, and passed out on my bed, sandwiched between my son and my new kitten.
It was remarkably relieving.

I think at the end of the day, living a life like mine, this triple-role lifestyle as a young mom, a business student, and a 20-year-old night-time slut, your priorities start to shine through when you decide to go straight home and into bed so that your son has you to wake up to every single morning. When sobriety hits, you become extremely relieved when you take in the fact that you didn't go to your buddy's house for a night of freaky drunken sex knowing that it would have resulted in a walk of shame up to the front door of your house at 5 AM, hoping you don't make noise because everyone knows you weren't at a bar until 5.
Yeah, I can thoroughly say that I'm glad that has never happened to me before. I'm happy to say that I don't think it ever will simply because even in my drunken state, my number one priority is making sure my son isn't affected by the ten-thousand different personas I need to be just to live my life and really enjoy it.

However, it is another note on it's own to describe last night's experience in more detail from the lusty and desirous drunken state I was in at the time.

I remember conversing with my baby daddy about how my childhood best-friend and I were so close when we were younger. I remember saying, "I always had a crush on [his name] when I was younger, I really think I was always secretly in-love with him as a kid because he was the only guy I could do everything with and tell everything to. But then in grade 9, he started dating [a girl's name] and I immediately friend-zoned him because she was so much more beautiful than me and I knew after that I'd never have a chance."
My baby-daddy, in his drunken state, decided to say something along the lines of, "are you f*cking kidding me? [HER NAME]!? No, Czar, you're a rocket compared to her, she's a f*ckin dirty sluuuuuut"
Okay, so immediately my self-esteem shot up, I picked up my phone, found my friend's name and sent him a text saying "I'm fucking you btw eventually" - Sure, that's drunk speak. I don't really know what came over me. So I got up and looked for him. And there he was, on the dance floor.
Well, perfect.

Dancing is my soul food and when I'm drunk, I almost can't stop. I'm not going to sit here and say that I danced my heart out yesterday because I really didn't. I wasn't really into the music that that cover band was playing last night, but I needed to get my ass on the dance floor with him and move. 

So I did dance with him, and something stupid and wild drove me to pull his face into mine and I simply couldn't stop. I really, sincerely, could not stop. It was the kiss I was probably waiting for since I was 14 and there it was. Disregard the fact that we were both drunk and surrounded by people on the dance floor, it was perfect. We didn't even realize that the music stopped playing and no one was dancing. 

I don't know how to adequately describe it. In all sincerity, I don't make a big deal about kissing anyway, it's something I'm prone to when I'm drunk. Personally, I could kiss anyone and it really wouldn't mean a thing unless I cared about them. But this time it was much more different than the usual drunken make-outs I have. I guess it's because between himself and I, we did a lot of our growing up together. He was my secret keeper when I had no one else to tell things to. It was like that since I met him when I was 11 and up until I was 15 when we stopped talking. Maybe it was different this time because it was just the kiss I always secretly wanted, but never thought of or imagined simply because of the underlying restrictions set by our friendship.

Then it happened, we were drunk, and it was perfect. We didn't make our rounds through the bases, but that didn't matter, it was one of the very VERY few kisses I can say that I thoroughly enjoyed and was absolutely enthralled by thereafter.

Yeah, it was nice. I'd say.


czaR2-D2