Wait, did I…?

I’ve done my fair share of dumb shit while drunk. Usually, I remember, but sometimes…..not so much. I’m often able to track down and harass friends and acquaintances for information, so I can reconstruct the previous night’s events, but it’s not like I can guarantee that what I’m being told is accurate.

For example, just a few days before I’d first hooked up with Liz, I went to a huge party with co-workers and had a bit much to drink. When I came to I was on a couch, with some dried blood in my nose, and the only person present was a co-worker’s wife. When I asked her about my bloody nose, she claimed that her and I tried to make out, and my co-worker got really pissed and punched me in the nose.

She seemed like a slut, and she was cute, so I took her word for it, apologizing profusely to my co-worker when he arrived a little later. According to him, though, she’d made that all up, and I’d simply tripped and hit my face. His wife insisted that her story was real, but I thought his version was more plausible (and it didn’t make me as uncomfortable), so I went with it instead. A few months later they split up though, and he told me it was because she was a huge slut, so some doubts persist.

But then, there are times where I believe the night was unremarkable and I don’t bother trying to learn more…

Earlier tonight, an old time friendly friend of a friend sent me a text. She had an ancestry DNA tests done, and learned she’s got some black in her, even though she’s as visibly white as one could be. After some joking back and forth, I told her that I’ve been thinking of getting one of those tests done as well, and she replied with “OMG, you totally should! I bet you have a bit of black in you too! 😉 “

Now…coming from anyone else, I wouldn’t have given that comment much thought. But, for whatever reason (probably the winking smiley), I thought she might have been talking about my cock. But…she’s never seen my cock. Has she seen my cock?

So…yeah. Now I’m all wondering if I let this girl touch my cock while I was drunk the last time that her and some of the girls hung out. Like…yeah, we were all drinking. And, yeah, I don’t remember getting a ride home, either. And…yeah, I do remember the conversation somehow leading to the girls talking about how they’d fuck everything that moved if they had cocks, thought not what came before or after…

Why am I showing concern over this? Well, I could say that it’s because she’s married, and I respect stuff like that, and that her husband is an alright guy…but you’d all know that’s a big, fat lie. The truth is that she’s not all that attractive. Like, I’m not going to say every woman I’ve been involved with has been top tier, ’cause they haven’t, but this friendly friend of a friend is definitely bellow my standards, and I’ve got some sort of a reputation to uphold, y’know? I…don’t really like the thought of our mutual friends knowing that I let her touch my cock.

I think I should just get to bed now.

– Jack The Narcissist (?)

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4 thoughts on “Wait, did I…?

    • Hm. Dunno… Stuff like this is more of a re-emphasis of stuff I thought I learned by now, but apparently haven’t.

      I kinda like being as aware of my place in my social circles as possible, though, so I’ll at least try to remember to drink my drinks slower next time.

  1. I hate that fear you get when you wake up not knowing what went off the night before. I always say I’ll learn, but then the bext time comes.

    • I know that feeling all too well.

      Never been as scared about what I might have done as I was this one time, though. Three of us were hanging out after work and having drinks. Probably too many drinks. The last thing I remember was that we got tired of pouring shots and were drinking straight from a bottle of tequila…

      I woke up hung over the next day, noticed that my third friend was missing, and then saw that there was blood on the bathroom floor.

      I couldn’t remember anything, so I woke up my second friend to see if he knew, but he was just as fucked up as I was. We tried calling the third friend’s cell phone, but it just rang for a while before going to voicemail each time. We were so worried about him being missing, and the blood on the bathroom floor, that we worked ourselves up into believing that we might have killed him and hid his body!

      Just as were getting ready to go look at this man made lake behind our place, he got back to us and told us he was alright. We never learned where the blood on the bathroom floor came from, though… 😐

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