My Saturday Night

Last night, to commiserate the complete lack of booty-call receiving from Sydney boy, I got myself incredibly drunk. Embarrassingly drunk even. I blame jelly shots. They're sooooo tasty and therein lies their wickedness. Because they don't taste like a shot you forget that there's alcohol in them and then all of a sudden you're hugging the porceline and moaning because you spewed on your favourite shoes two weekends in a row. Now these babies aren't just any shoes. They are 100% leather upper, strappy pewter Sachi 5 inch stilettos that I totter around in despite any level of inebriation because they are fucking hot. Mmmmmm shoes…

Back to the spewing. (Well not literally because you don’t want to hear about that.) I drank so much last night because I was hoping to spend at least some of this one wedding-free-weekend getting fucked by hot Sydney boy. I called him Thursday night and the phone was engaged. When I finally got through he didn’t answer. So I sent him this message: “Hey, how are u? Are you free for more kisses this wkend? :) Call me”. Note my use of sms abbreviations to appear casual. I thought it was cute, casual and not at all demanding. By more kisses he knows I mean more sex. All good. Anyway, no reply. Nothing. No phone call. No ‘sorry busy this weekend’ text. Fucking nothing! Loser! So instead I went to an ex-boyfriend’s birthday party with the most recent ex and got maggot. It was strange being with the old group of people we used to hang out with as a couple. It was especially strange because one thing I do remember is trying to kiss the birthday boy. My only hope is that no one saw. Especially not his girlfriend. Oh dear!

Angst about Sydney boy compounded my already existing angst about work boy with girlfriend. This angst is way more serious but I was hoping to distract myself by getting some serious booty from Sydney boy. No dice hence drinking to excess. Drinking of course only leads to bad bad things.

I fucking hate this shit. I hate being in limbo with guys. I want to have that comfortable medium of hot hot sex but also knowing they’ll call you when you expect them to. I don’t want lame been-together-for-a-million-years-ness. I just want butterflies in my stomach and then not being disappointed. I actual kinda like being single if it means I get to have sex with hot guys occasionally (and by occasionally I mean every weekend). Am I asking too much, really?