This is the night I discovered Long Island Iced Teas, but let’s rewind.
In the mustard hoodie. Micheal. The love of my high school life. For me - it was full blown infatuation at first sight. For him…not so much. He was tall, skinny and had that flimsy “emo” look that was on the rage. I stalked his LiveJournal, made him cookies for his birthday, and generally threw myself at him shamelessly. All of my efforts fell on deaf ears, which only drew me closer in.
This picture was years after high school but my flame was still burning as strong as ever. We had a mutual friend that would keep us in each others crosshairs from time to time. When I learned he was joining us on a bar crawl, I put on the good underwear.
At the age of 21 I fancied myself able to drink most under the table. When a friend brought me a Long Island Iced Tea, I was amused. This? It doesn’t taste like booze, keep these things coming. It was the next morning when I woke up in my friends car alone in his garage that I knew I had gravely underestimated this beverage and it’s powers.
A few drinks in and I abandoned my plan to play it cool and reverted right back to high school autopilot. Throwing myself shamelessly at this man. You can really see the decline from one picture to the next. In one I remain slightly poised. The other - three sheets to the wind. A peace sign? Really? I remember canoodling with him as we went from bar to bar. The nasty part about alcohol is that it takes away the finer points of the evening like dialogs or where you put your cell phone and leaves you with this half painted picture. My friend recalls us falling all over each other in the back of his car, all while deep in conversation. What is Gods name were we talking about? Knowing my propensity for dramatics when intoxicated, it couldn’t have been pretty.
It was a few months later when out of the blue I get a text asking if I wanted to come hang out. Of course I wanted to drive to L.A. on a moments notice at 10pm at night, I’ll be right there. But not before changing into the nice panties. When I arrived we headed out to the local watering holes. I vowed to handle this opportunity with more grace and less intoxications - and as luck would have it - I did. The whole night was magical. A person prone to forgetting I can recall details of each bar which now sparkle in my memory like something out of the Great Gatsby.
When we got back to his apartment he insisted we blast Johann Sebastian Bach, referring to it as “ The Yoyos ”. I had fleeting thought of how weird this was but it was washed away by a flood pent up lust.
Forever an early riser while drinking the morning light begun to illuminate in my mind the nights events. I got up to use the bathroom and collect myself. He woke up and coaxed me back to bed, jumping into a spiel about how he had liked me the whole time but our mutual friend complicated things, how I was beautiful, how this is what he wanted.
When he feel back asleep I snuck out.