Monday, February 23, 2009

Making Out in Public

I'm not a big fan of public displays of affection, especially drunken public bar make outs. In my slightly traditional mind, kissing is still a personal thing that should be shared between two people in privately, and slobbering over each other in a bar takes all the enjoyment out of it.

But I also get that when you're drunk and you come across someone who is looking really good through the beer goggles, sometimes all restraint goes out the window and you just need to get on each other right there and right then, regardless of who might be around and watching.

This is, of course, just my justification for what happened last night.

In a total, bizarre coincidence, some of Epic Fail's friends happen to live in my new apartment building, including Dirty Irish.

Last night, my friend R and I were hanging out in my apartment when the guys called and we all decided to go out together, sans Epic Fail obviously.

(Side Note on Epic Fail: After his crying on the phone, I've come to the conclusion that he is certifiably insane and entirely likely to kidnap me and make a doll that looks just like me to sleep next to every night.

In fact, when he asked me where my new apartment was, I wouldn't tell him the number in the fear that he'd be able to come find it. I even have a contingency plan if we run into each other in the elevator. I'll get off at the wrong floor and take the stairs to my actual floor, to throw him off the scent.)

At the bar, many shots and beers were consumed and before long, Dirty Irish was looking even better to me than he usually does.

So when he told me he was sick of manwhoring around and he wants to just settle down with a nice girl and looked at me, I kind of forgot all my hesitations about him, such as the fact that he's a manwhore and Epic Fail's friend, and Epic Fail is entirely likely to kill both of us should anything ever happen between us.

And that's when I reached over, grabbed Dirty Irish and just kissed him in the middle of the bar, right in front of all our friends as they watched, some with astonishment, and some who had been expecting it for a while.

Being slightly sound of mind, I pulled away before it went any further. The first words out of Dirty Irish's mouth were, "Don't tell Epic Fail." (I think more directed towards his friends than to me, considering I have had no contact with Epic Fail since the crying incident.)

After I got home (yes, alone), it occurred to me that my friends are probably right and I should stop acting on my drunken instincts since they don't tend to lead to the smartest decisions.

And yes, I am a jerkface. Which is probably why I find other jerkfaces attractive. That's how we jerkfaces roll.

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