Happy People Don't Complain (Draft)

"Did I ever have a chance?", Rolando San Martin asked me after I had already politely excused myself from him and the empty table he was now sitting at. No, he didn't. Nobody has ever had a chance with me because I self-sabotage, I thought to myself as I teetered in my flats and ignored his dumb question and kept on walking away.

I am dizzy and it is difficult to walk straight and pretend like I am not drunk, so I will try and focus all my attention on just simply trying to make it into the house, so I can find an available bathroom with a toilet that I can possibly, desecrate with my vomit.

As I step into Ashley's kitchen, I run into PJ and I let him know that I am sick and while I talk to him in the back of my mind I tell myself, "Don't puke, please don't puke", over and over like some kind of obscene prayer. I beg and I plead with myself to hold back the alcohol begging to spew out of my mouth at any given moment.

Getting drunk tonight to the point of not being able to walk straight was not part of my plan, but was expected, considering the recent events that have occurred. I don't know why, but I guess I thought if I snorted at least one line of coke that I would be okay. But apparently I am sorely mistaken.

I stand and wait patiently in the kitchen for PJ to go and retrieve Amy so we can all go home to her house and I can pray to the porcelain god in privacy and pass out. I get a text from a "drunk" Evan and I am slightly, amazed that I can even read and comprehend a text message in my state without experiencing double vision. I know public drunkenness does not solve problems in general, nor problems with the opposite sex but it sure does help somewhat.

It is ironic though, how things work out themselves.

I thought I knew Matt like the back of my hand, I thought he was the only guy out there with any scruples left and just because I have experienced his human weakness firsthand, has me reeling. I can no longer keep him on a pedestal, because he is tainted now that we have had sex. That night has shed a different light on him because he is a cheater, he cheated on his girlfriend with me and he is all of sudden normal again and has instantly turned into a douche bag before my very eyes.

I considered him to be very special to me not only because I love him and I adore him but because he is one of very few, male friends that I have been able to keep clean from the dreaded messy entanglements of sex and my carnal knowledge. Even throughout our "brief relationship" we never fucked. The only indecent thing that ever happened was at his friend Jason's house when he stuck his hand down my pants when he assumed that I was passed out about two summers ago. Even after that experience, I can't help but dismiss the indecency, because he whispered sweet nothings into my ear while I pretended to be passed out.

This is almost like that song called, "It's Cool We Can Still Be Friends", except I'm not drinking whiskey and I'm not going to pass out and forget his face by the time I wake up. I'm going to see him this Thursday night at the Julian Plenti concert and I'm going to be judging him silently because I know him now, I know him in the "biblical sense".  Even though I will feel and act awkward, I will still pretend that I don't resent him for knowing that if it came down to it, he would never leave his girlfriend for me. I'm the woman guys cheat on their girlfriends with, but I have never been the woman they leave their girlfriends for.