A few weeks ago, my alcohol consumption, combined with a need to have a good night, severely hindered my judgement. No, I didn’t hook up with an ex. Worse, I asked one for a favor.
My friend Christine and I were out at McFadden’s feeling especially old and grumpy among the I’m-18-and-used-my-older-sibling’s-ID crowd. I, against my better judgement, text messaged, Pete, the asshole who dissed my hair color and ruined my Christmas.
I asked him where he took me on our date, because I wanted to go to that area. He told me that he was actually heading over there, and that “it’d be nice to see [me]” if I wasn’t with a guy and decided to stop by. An hour later, Christine and I were across town away from the children, but now freezing our asses off on the longest line Continue reading