Beautifully, refreshingly, freely, fabulously drunk. Listening to some of Nikka Costa’s better stuff, with Nicole Atkins and Meiko sprinkled pleasantly in between.

Currently finished with Ben, starting- for reasons unbeknownst to myself- something with an old Whirlpool coworker, still currently infatuated with Matt, it seems. That damn boy calls me out of the blue, sending my heart a flutter, sending me straight back to July, the bastard. I swear he collects the women he’s refused as friends.

All of these things, however, are a harmless, amusing blur once I’ve gotten a couple in me. I’m drowning myself in good whiskey and good music, floating back and forth to the kitchen for refills, utterly content. I’m only moderately annoyed with Matt. I’m only slightly confused with others. Everything is so benign in this state. Everything.

I don’t think I should settle. My chances of ending up happy would skyrocket if I did, but I don’t think I will. I’ll resign myself to something passionate; someone like Matt.  I’ll follow passion and be miserable and frustrated, but I’ll be passionate all the same. I want someone without whom I cannot breathe, without whom I cannot sleep, without whom I cannot be happy, whose very presence robs me of my independence and ability to live without them. I want to drink them in the way I do my whiskey, and I want to feel as distant and content and scandalously edified as a result. I want to fret over him the way most girls fret over their men; I want to give a shit for once. I want to be swept off my feet, I want to be changed by his very existence, I want to change drastically enough to be surprised and resent him for it.

I’ll have that or nothing, I’ve decided. I’ll putz about in the meantime, sure, but ultimately, if a man doesn’t make me feel the way I just described then I’ll carry on by myself.