The Drunk Dial

Skinny Seth Rogen had volleyed the ball in my direction and now it was my turn to send it back his way. Would my response lead to a Hester-styled touch down punt return? Or to a pathetic Grossman nerve-induced fumble? "I'm glad I made it out too. You were funny and bubbly, and the suit only added to your charm. If you'd like to hang out again, give me a call: (xxx) xxx - xxxx." Breezy. Succinct. Succesfully volleyed back. Just as I was set to disappear from Facebook for the next week, forcing Skinny Seth to call me, he replied. "My number is in my facebook info. :o)"

::SPIKE::

TIME OUT!!!!
Cut me some fucking slack here! I threw the ball in your court! Your response was totally an illegal play! Where the fuck is a ref when you need one?!?!

I didn't reply. I wanted him to pursue me and any sort of answer to his message was simply not going to fall in line with that goal.

Fast forward to the middle of the week. It was St. Patrick's Day and I had done a terrible job of remaining off of Facebook. It's like crack, especially when you recently friended a hottie you really like. I hadn't heard from Skinny Seth yet but he regularly updated his profile so I got my fix that way instead of calling. And boy did I want to call! But I couldn't wouldn't. Years of being the aggressor hadn't gotten me anywhere. This was the first time in three years that I had met someone I could really see myself being with and I was hell-bent on not messing this one up.

(II) PAUSE
For the sake of the story, it's important to note that a couple months prior to St. Patty's Day I had drastically cut back on alcohol.
(>) UNPAUSE

Candice and I hit up Tavern after work. A few green beers and an unfortunate shot of Don Julio later, I was trashed. Left to my own devices, what do you think I did? Cue the horror music! I called Skinny Seth. I didn't remember our conversation the next morning aside from something about luggage... or was it baggage?

::TRAGIC::