Mommy: How did you sleep?
Illustrious D: Most excellently. Cold room, warm comforters.
M: Oh, good. I put an extra blanket on just in case.
ID: There was an extra one?
M: Yes, the coloured blanket.
ID: Uh, mom? They're called African-American blankets now.
I went home for the weekend to rehearse with a group I perform with/at. This was a surprise for my parents, and my mother, upon opening the door to find me standing there, emitted a sound pitched so high that our dog Finnigan immediately went into heat. The weekend was spent mostly in rehearsals, with the odd tipping of the hat and the bottle to old friends. As no medications, prescriptions or otherwise, seem to be on the horizon, I've rededicated myself to alcoholism. Fortunately, I tend to have friends that share this passion, though none quite at my level, thereby allowing me to feel enabled and superior at the same time. I'm not beating an addiction; I'm winning at it.
While home, I was also propositioned by an old one-sided lover who got me all worked up and then requested that we postpone until the next day. Here is the thing about trying to get with someone who tries hard to be virtuous but is fundamentally weak: we will give in only in the moment. Any attempts at sexual procrastination will be rebuffed. This is not community college; you cannot defer entrance. (That joke would work so much better if I was a bottom.) If you get us all jonesin' and then back off, we're not going to wait until the next night because by then we'll have regained our moral compass or at least what's left of it. Rather we will sit at home all blue balled until some random messages us for a 'cuddle' (read: chew on a nipple*) and then totally go cause I was bored and it was Valentine's Day and I'm unlovable! Or something. Ugh, I don't even have the energy to reprimand myself for being occasionally ho-ey.
* I also learned that under NO circumstances do I enjoy being the little spoon.