How drunkenness cost me my date
Rule number one of drinking at a party: women should get drunk before men
She is the shapeliest woman I have ever laid my eyes on. She is light skinned but from the Lakeside. Those who come from the lakeside know that when a woman is born light skinned from those sides, she is guaranteed glowing beauty. I loved her the first time I noticed her. Her boobs stood erect like a clock at noon. Her bum drew itself on her sleek trousers and Peter, my buddy in ogling reserved only glowing sexual adjectives to describe her.
Her body movements seemed to be having a life of their own. There was a pulsating, a pubescence in her that was both promising and inviting. But she was a snob. When we ran into her with Peter, her responses to out torrent of questions were monosyllabic, indicating that we were getting a tad bothersome.
So this last Friday when we decided to have a party, I didn’t know that fate could cost me my dream date. I had planned to go corporate, get myself some accent, get loaded and start hitting ion her afresh. But on Friday, she was visiting her male friend in the hostels. After drinking the hard stuff, I got drunk within record minutes and from then on, whatever I spoke was crap.
Blame it on the alcohol. When I ran into her, I couldn’t hold my tongue back. I made all my confessions to her in that drunk state, and boy? Didn’t speak bad. In fact I sais so much craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap that I’m afraid of running into her. I hated myself. I hated the fact that I couldn’t control myself.
Now, I know I made a big fool of myself. I regret. Now am considering quitting alcohol and sticking to beer. Ad if I meet her, I hope she will reach deep down her heart to forgive me and give me a chance.