And by a little, I mean a lot. So maybe this post should be titled drunk blogging.
Annnnnyway, I've been trying to get the Marine to go get a drink with me at this tavern in town, right? And to make it less date-y I wanted our mutual friend to come along. I found out tonight that they went to the tavern...but I wasn't invited. So I was feeling sorry for myself and I got drunk.
Then the Marine sent me a text message telling me how sorry he was that I wasn't invited, and if he'd known I wasn't invited he would have invited me and he would have loved to see me. So we started texting, and flirting a little (a lot). But we're both pretty drunk, so I don't think it means much of anything.
I'm sure I'll wind up embarrassing myself horribly, but I don't really care right now, largely because he's being sweet and flirty and I can't be moved to give a fuck. A little part of my nonchalance has to do with me being pretty fucking plastered, let's be real. And I just called him love, for whatever reason my alcohol addled brain could think of. I'm going to be so fucking embarrassed tomorrow.
I'm going to bed now. I'll let y'all know tomorrow if I've lived through the night or died from embarrassment.
Goodnight, loves!
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