A Perfect Date

I felt a little like Bridget Jones.
I had gotten all dolled up and was ready to suck it up and face an early work day for a night of typical college recreation.
And then, like something you almost expect because it's so ironic and terrible, my plans fell through. On account of the lack of vaginas at the party, it had been dubbed "Guy's Night". Upon inspecting the lack of phallic genitalia in my jeans, I decided I'd be better off sucking down my Moscato wine and writing in my underwear for the rest of the night.

So here I am. In all my mascara and bikini-cut glory. And maybe I should have something profound to say here, or find something philosophical in this situation, but all I can really think about is how pitiful I must look to the people outside my window. A girl with her hair all done up drinking alone in her room at her computer. I bet Carrie Bradshaw did this once or twice. That gives me SOME credibility, doesn't it? And I'm pretty sure they can see me in my knickers, but after a few more drops of the good ol' Sutter Home, I doubt I'll care much anyway.

What I'd really rather prefer is to have someone lying in my bed behind me, reading Dostoevsky or Proust, hell even a reliable Tom Robbins novel would do the trick. Yes, and then Mr. Literate would invite me to bed or to watch an old movie on TV or make love or something. Make love! Not have sex or fuck or ravish each other, which, don't get me wrong, is absolutely warranted when the situation arises. But it's been so long since I've actually experienced something emotional and passionate at the same time; where you take the time to explore every inch of the other person, the way their skin feels, they way the taste, the heat of their body against yours... looking into their eyes as the momentum rises and falls.

I don't know. Maybe I just want for someone to appreciate it when I make the extra effort. When I take the time to look more than myself or do something small to be kind.

Or maybe I just need to get some sleep.
I'll retire my bottle of wine (nearly empty now) and brush off this state of mind, like there isn't someone getting drunk somewhere else not even giving this a second thought.