Drunken Times...

Woah, I was fucking drunk when I wrote the last post!

Melancholic drunkness!

Still, that melancholy is part of me, drunken words might be uncontrolled, might be incoherent to a point, but they still come from your mind and will probably say a few truths about you.

My last post was of that kind.

But you know what, it's not that bad, the girl, Amy, is definitely in the past and usually remains there. And the delays between her "apparitions" are longer and longer so I'm not too worried.

Also, I met a girl last Friday in a bar. Didn't make out with her (nor was she 17 years old...Wait, I didn't tell you that story, see below), didn't do anything stupid. Just had fun and asked for her phone number. It was her real one and I had a nice chat with her tonight.

It was just that I didn't feel that kind of interest in a while. I've been going around a lot in the last two years, not interested by relationships whatsoever and I became quite the slut. Not that I have anything against it, just that I recently started to feel I needed something else.

As bad as it is, I never thought Stéfanie was a serious relationship. I thought she was worth more than a "one night stand" and I really liked the girl, but there is just someting that never worked. When you meet someone, know it won't work, are aware of it as soon as you kissed the person for the first time but still think you should give it a chance, just because you need more than the basic sex.

But the person is not right for you, what did you expect, really?

The contact was cut quite suddenly and I'm responsible. I would have preferred another end, but it was inevitable. I thought I was not ready for a relationship, but let's face it, if I meet the "right" girl, I'd be fucking ready!

I'm not saying that the girl I met two days ago and had one phone talk with is the one, that I'm in love. Just that it's been a while I felt this way. A while I've been curious about a girl. Not curious to see her naked, but wanting to see what's behind those eyes. And the eyes themselves are worth as much as the butt, the boobs, the pretty face, the general beauty: They are nice to look at, they are obviously necessary to find someone interesting, at least by your own standards. When you're house-shopping, you'll have to be attracted by the exterior enough to visit the interior, but it's that living space inside that will make you decide whether to buy it or not.

External beauty is sufficient when you're just looking for sex, but when you want more, what you're trying to see is life, exploding through eyes, words, gestures, smells, anticipation, stupid grins...and the stress to call the person back!

And it's exactly the feeling I've been completely missing in the last two years. And when I was longing for something akin, usually when I was drunk, the most recent memory I had of such a thing was of my relationship with Amy, thus explaining my unfrequents outbursts of melancholy towards her.

I felt it again, for someone else.

Now, that 17-years-old story...

A few weeks ago, I went to a bar with my Banff friends (Let's call them "the Circle", since I didn't even meet most of them in Banff!) and noticed a cute girl was looking at me while talking to her friend, probably saying something like "don't turn around now 'cause he's looking but that guy is cute". Of course the friend turned around and looked at me for a fraction of a second. After a while, we met and we started to dance. I was aware she was young (In my mind, probably around 19, give or take a year) but we were in a bar, and here in Québec, she had to be at least 18 to get in, so... you know! She was fun, we danced and flirted and ended up making out. A little later, I asked a friend, rhetorically (but I probably had a hunch, nevertheless):

"That girl was young, wasn't she?"

"Fuck yeah!"

So I got worried and asked what he meant. He told me he has been talking to her friends and they were all 17! Flashback: I realized they were the bunch of girls back in the line that the bouncer had let in despite commenting on them borrowing their sisters' ID...

I made out with a minor, 10 years younger than me! Now, just imagine her doing the same thing!

Time to go find a nice little drawer for that memory, lock it and swallow the key.