clarity

I love vodka. I don't drink as much of it as I used to, but every time I do I'm reminded that I'd make an excellent alcoholic. The morning after a good time with one of those bottles I'm not hung over. I'm cleansed, high on life, relaxed. Confused as well, tired, but in that comfortable way where you're just physically forced to relax because you're incapable of anything else.

Yes indeed, I'd make a great alcoholic.

Sunday morning, I staggered home after massive amounts of the stuff.

Tears were running down my face, but I didn't care. The booze had torn down that wall in my head, I knew what I had to do. I stripped naked, climbed into bed. Called my Maria, at seven in the morning. She answered, sleepy and confused.

"I love you", I blurted into the phone. I'd never told her.

The line went dead.

It didn't occur to me for a moment that she'd hung up on me, it had to be the battery in her phone. Had to be. I composed a rather dramatic message telling her I loved her, wanted her back. Sent it. Her replies confirmed what I knew, it was her battery and it wasn't a lost cause.

I passed out.

You don't get that sort of clarity from anything but vodka, straight up.

When I woke up around noon, I called her again, we talked.

We spoke again this evening, if moaning and touching ourselves and sharing an orgasm over the ether can be called "speaking". I am so looking forward to being inside her again.

She didn't actually say she'd be mine.

But I know she will.