Blacking Out

After a night out my friend and I were waiting for an Uber taxi to come pick us up.  It was stupid late, so we ended up waiting like an hour for this cab.  While waiting, she made friends and I got an awesome idea for some braids, so I was busy braiding my hair.

I got up to go meet another friend and his girlfriend for brunch.  I was telling them the story of the previous night, and how I was just drunkenly braiding my hair in some vestibule for an hour.

This friend of mine is half black half Filipino, so he refers to himself as blackapino...I always try to convince him he phlack...we can't seem to agree on this.  It is widely known among my friends that I black out frequently, but because of the braiding that had taken place, I completely missed the meaning of his question and made it all racist.  This was the second time I met his girlfriend, luckily she could tell I'm not a racist, I'm just a drunk/hungover piece of shit, so we still get along.  And to be fair, one night a couple years ago I did black out and braided all my hair into tiny braids, you can take the term "black out" to mean whatever you want here.

Things in my Handbag

After doing a bit of traveling and having a couple of reunions with different groups of friends, I found myself in the airport waiting for my flight.  My phone was dead, but not lost, so that's a miracle in itself.  To pass the time, I took a quick inventory of the things that ended up in my handbag.

9 silver toned off brand sharpies
1 apple wrapped in plastic that my friend found in the bathroom of a bar...we refer to it as a shittapple
1 empty water bottle
1 action headband
passport
deck of cards
sunglasses with one big scratch on the lens
1 zippered pouch containing:
     -hair chalk
     -temporary tattoos
     -tweezers
     -nail clippers
     -8 hair ties
     -ipod charger
     -floss
     -personal check for $50

Tinder Date #2

After the big bang (or rather, big (non)bang) debacle with my first tinder dude, I decided it was time to start swiping again.  I made a match with a guy and we met up for pizza and beer.  I should have just walked away when he asked me if I liked the Big Bang Theory...that was red flag number one.  I was determined to have a first date without sleeping with the guy, because I think that might be the secret to actually dating rather than just having a million one night stands.  I am more about acting on my feelings, but I thought I would give this self-control thing a try.

The guy was alright, kind of a loser, a waiter, I don't have a problem with this, but I'm already a bit of a loser, and I don't think there should be two losers in a relationship.  I was pretty sure I wasn't into the guy, but, this would be a great way to try out not sleeping with a date, SCORE!!  Well, a score without scoring.

We drink a lot.  He seems funnier and more attractive after the shot he suggests we take, so we have a few more drinks.  I get up to go to the bathroom as he is coming back and my pant leg gets caught on the booth, I fall rather ungracefully out of the booth and he kind of steadies me and then kisses me.  Damn!  Why must I love making out so much!!

We go back to his place.  Shirts end up on the floor, but somehow I manage to stop the natural progression, and tell him that's as far as I want to go.  He was nice about the whole thing, agreed with me about not going any further.

We keep messaging the rest of the week and he invites me over during the weekend to watch a movie.  We make out a bit and eventually he leads me into his bedroom.  We fool around, and I end up stopping things again, I forgot that it can be kind of nice to say "no" sometimes.  He asks why, and I make stumble over my words, go quiet for longer than was necessary, and eventually make some joke about being a recovering slut.  When I told I guy friend this story later, he said maybe don't say that to dudes you don't want to sleep with.  He seems a little annoyed, but only mildly, and makes a few passive aggressive jokes about blue balls.  He also tells me way too much information about his last relationship and about them almost getting married, and as if that weren't enough of a turn off he goes on to say he's thought about committing suicide.  Talk about a downer!

We end up moving back to the couch, watch some comedy and do some shots.  I end up blowing him because I feel a little guilty for not putting out.  This is a stupid feeling, I know, but, sometimes I'm stupid.

I sleep over, and we make out a little bit more.  He starts fingering me and makes some comment about we probably wouldn't be able to have sex anyway because he is too big for me.  I'm sure I roll my eyes. This guy is starting to piss me off.  What a self-important asshole.  I remember going to the bathroom at one point and just thinking to myself, thank goodness I didn't sleep with this guy.  It's amazing how when you get past the first encounter you realize a person has no redeeming qualities.  I was so proud of myself for not sleeping with him I rewarded myself by fucking when we woke up the next day.  Just kidding, not about the fucking part, that, unfortunately, happened, but it was no reward for me...let's just say he was definitely not too big for me.  I'm sure I don't need to say, but I never heard from him again.