serinde

One of the neat things about being a cheap drunk is that I can get a pleasing buzz on without spending much $$. One glass of wine and I'm happy; two glasses and I'm anyone's bitch.

Which is the less-fortunate part.

It's fun, and I enjoy everything I do in the course of it, but let's face it: I am the poster child for Bad Booze Judgment. No, I don't drive drunk, or blow things up, or cut myself (not for a number of years, anyways). My ill judgment seems to be reserved for matters of TEH SEXX0R. And again, this is fun, but it has a decent chance for leaving delightful little emotional bombs to discover in the morning. For extra bonus entertainment, at the time of course I'm confident that I know exactly what I'm doing and that all will be well. Stereotypical, neh?

Let me pause to mention that I haven't done anything oopsie tonight. Beth and I found that the line at the pedicure place was too long, and we went to Mustang Sally's for a drink or two and some mutual core dumping before I headed out to catch my train; The End. This is more a pondering on my state of mind (FSVO "mind") on the way home, which is no different from what it generally is after two drinks, and what's often followed in the trail of a bit more b00ze than that. Even after a lot more, I know better than (again) to drive or the like, but in spite of previous experience, I don't seem to know any better than to fall over and end up with my legs spread.

Quaere: my three beloveds at the moment are all very self-contained, rational, sensible men--is it because I'm a fairly wild-eyed, irrational, whimsical creature myself (underneath diligent and, I think, largely successful efforts to render myself useful and responsible), and being drunk lets that part of me out to find someone of that ilk? Along with numbing the little conscientious voice that is pointing out "You're going to make a big mess if you do this, dearie," of course--everyone gets that. Or is it just me being a thrillseeker? Behold, the adrenaline junkie.

The answer is "something of both", no doubt.

This leads to the next question: what to do about it, if anything? I think I'm clever and wise enough to avoid anything catastrophic, but then, I'm drunk, and I would think that. And it's a self-fulfilling prophecy: I want it on some levels, and though usually that's kept in check by good sense, the whole point of booze is that it tells your good sense to go way back and sit down. And it's so much fun...but I don't want to hurt the redheads (Brian is not generally troubled by my antics, at least so far). On the third hand, sometimes I get tired of being All Responsible And Stuff, especially when I feel like everyone isn't pulling equally in that department. On the fourth hand, the spandex-wearing part of me says that that's no reason for me to do the Wrong Thing. Et cetera, et cetera, and so forth.

As far as current temptation goes, I have given my word, and that's at least a lodestone to direct my moral compass. I like having formally-defined boundaries, because I know my tendencies toward Jesuitical reasoning and mental gymnastics; I am a past master at following the letter but not the spirit of the law, and arguing myself into a complacent belief that this is correct and upright behavior. It's a strange sort of double-vision, and it's exceedingly seductive. I could blither further about how I learned "one way, MY way" at my mother's knee, but what's the point? Indoctrination isn't really an excuse when you know you're doing something that may not be wrong by your lights, but is by the lights of those you love.

This is over-long and I have laundry to do. Time to stop.

I still can't figure out where to stick "Do It Again" on this mix.