There’s something special about three in the morning.
Especially when it’s presented by an ambitiously enjoyed bottle of delicious pink moscato from your once-estranged parents.
It’s a dangerous and manic time that presents so many possibilities that always come across as precisely as constructive as a burst of energy on an aeroplane.
This time is different, though. You wanna know why? Because this one time I choose to do something with that energy. Just This Once.
This is not the First Night of the Rest Of My Life. In fact, I think the only way to reach the Rest Of My Life is to make productive choices as difficult and wholly one-off occasions, without any commitment to changing myself for the better every time in the future. I’m not a Rest Of My Life kind of woman, I think.
I’m a Just This Once, type.
I think that’s a better fit.
rennaisance faires are amazing.
ren fair frends
As long as ur drunk.
It makes me feel magical and boys propose and you can be absurd and it’s beautiful.
one of u is reading a shittonne of my posts and I see u. 2 visitors, 51 views?
Hello, friend. I hope you’re having fun <3
i had this whole schtick when I was in school about how tragedy was beautiful and all pain was the purest way to experience the gorgeous reality of humanity or whatever. Normal kid stuff, encouraged heavily by my melodramatic mother. My whole family loves that “wear your suffering as a badge of honour” shit.
Turns out I’m still like that. Except now I love the pain for pain’s sake. Like it’s not my strength to soldier on that’s cool; it’s the way it hurts while I’m doing it.
i dont have any pix of sex-induced injuries on my phone anymore, so here’s sarang looking particularly done with my introspective shit
So I’m not really sure what that means. But I found some depressing videos of The Asteroid post-fire and now I have a 55oz glass of 45%wine and the rest% ice and ginger ale and I’m just ready for anything else my room can throw at me.
Also, physical pain is so much better than emotional pain. If I get drunk enough tonight – which is likely cuz I have zero interesting food and 5 interesting wine – you can expect a really embarrassing and way too open story about Michael Potiska – you know, that boy I fell in love with last winter?
Holla for wtnv references and a possible return to my old blogging ways.
eternal flame, yo
I signed up a year ago, deleted it for a while, just reinstalled like two weeks ago. I’ve definitely had better luck this time around. As is always the case when dealing with men, there’s a tonne of bullshit to wade through, but if you’re persistent and optimistic, you will eventually find a few decent lays. Or at least a few fun ones.
Let me run you through the best parts of online encounters:
- The Meet-Cute: Conveniently, my address does not actually lead to my flat if you follow GPS. This means that the first time someone comes over – usually at like 1 or 2am – we end up wandering around talking to each other on the phone and trying to find each other.
- We Got No Strings: Meeting and banging someone from the Internet almost never leads to more. This is fantastic because relationships are painful and hard, and sex is fun and therefore preferable unattached.
- Whatshername: The sorta awkward pause when I realise after we’ve already banged that I’m only about 60% sure of the person’s name is hands down my favourite exercise in improv. “How do you spell your name? No, your last name.” is a great line. As is “What’s your last name, I’m not going to Facebook you I promise – I just need to add you to the list of people I’ve had sex with in my life.” I usually go with the second one to be honest.
- Stayin’ Alive: As of this writing, I have not yet been murdered by anyone. Which is just great, if you ask me.