Saturday night, Monday memories

Campfire's picture

The only thing worse than a Monday morning, is a Monday morning that follows a Saturday night out which you can't remember, and being informed of what happened.

Apparently after around two bottles of wine I found my friend's skin strangely lickable, and so obviously proceeded to lick his face. This encouraged another friend to start licking him too. I have no memory of this whatsoever nor did I get to the bottom of why he didn't stop us. I also have no memory of going to my friend's house but I woke up there anyway. The main mystery of the morning after was why my top was off. I found out today that I apparently kicked someone in the head to wake them up, complained that I was very hot, they suggested I take my top off and so I did. Again, I don't remember doing this. Oh, and (do keep up) my friend's brother's friend decided my passed out body was extremely cool and he really liked me, and proceeded to fall asleep on top of me.

Now I refer to this latter guy as "donkey" in real life because one time he came downstairs in Y-fronts and, well, my GOD is he well endowed. So isn't that just typical? The one time an amazingly fit guy decides to sleep on me, I'm comatose.

All of the guys mentioned above, both the lickers and the licked, are all supposedly straight by the way (except me, though to those other guys, I am supposedly straight). I think this adds a lot of substance to the article that adrian linked to here.

Typically I renounced my sins, scolded myself and recited the age old mantra "I will not get that drunk ever again." Of course that's the 37th time I've said it and it never quite sticks. *hic*