(I wrote this when I got home drunk-as-hell at 3 am. This morning, in the bleary light of hangover, I decided it was too personal for the internet. Having spent most of the day lying in bed with GB, watching Six Feet Under (fifth season! I can’t stand that the end is approaching!), eating pizza, and trying to fend off hangover-induced panic attacks, I’ve decided to put this back up. It’s boring and personal, but whatever. It’s not like I think I’m doing anything socially relevant here anyway.)

Tonight I went to the bar.

And I met the Wrangler there. And the Wrangler’s girlfriend, who used to be GB’s girlfriend, showed up. And Bad Idea was there too.

And we all decided to go back to Bad Idea’s house when the bar closed.

And we listened to the CD that I made Bad Idea back when we were almost-sort-of sleeping together. And then the Wrangler and Blanche decided to go home. And so it was just me and Bad Idea, like it was way back when, and of course….well….we fell into our old patterns, which involved a bunch of kissing. And a lot of making out. And discussions of how, oh my god, I’m so not doing this game again. And then more making out, and then I called a cab, and now I’m home.

Go me!

This is all way more than you need to know.

But Bad Idea and I actually agreed on a few things: that we have always had a Thing Between Us. That we will always have this Thing Between Us. That rational thought has nothing to do with this Thing. And that, damn, if life didn’t involve other people, we’d just be fucking all the time. This is all comforting, and also not comforting, at the same time.

It’s very likely I will delete this post when I wake up tomorrow. I imagine I’ll see no reason to leave it up then, because it should be no surprise to me that Bad Idea is, well, a bad idea.

But damn. What is with these people (and by “these people,” I so mean Bad Idea) and their wily tequila-infused influences?