flashback 1: beautiful

What had happened was my boy decided to buy me a drink, just like the one I had in my hand. See, my girl was drinking something crimson in a brandy glass so I thought it’d be cute to try something different, you know, break away from my trademark cosmo. Next thing you know everyone is buying me drinks. I lost track after the sixth one. The room became a loop-de-loop of dreads, beats, me moving all the way to the floor in that airy white cotton shirt. I only remember bits and pieces of the night. Sorta funny, sad, and cool, all at once. I remember dancing way too close to somebody I just know is bad. Not evil bad but sexy bad and bad in that “haven’t youlearned your lesson about boys who don’t want to marry that amazing women” way. (Isn’t that why I’m glad the Chicago area has sub-zero temperatures?) I remember people worrying about me(“not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin”), worrying about him(get that smile away from me, you wolf.)Most of all, I remember the end of the night, me crouched over the white porcelain, crying, complaining, talking, talking, talking.
The hangover was a bitch but nothing a few ounces of white wine didn’t cure. Still the aftermath keeps going on. Every time I see him, I want to throw something, a drink, a glass, a punch.

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