A Mix of Make-outs.

"Beer before liquor, never been sicker; liquor before beer, you're in the clear." 

Whoever came up with this has obviously never gotten drunk before. I can imagine some talentless airhead trying to become famous by coming up with this bullshit. Because this night started off with the usual hard stuff, vodka, tequila, a little whisky here and there, slowly moving on to the cheap beers and I could already feel the hangover and nausea coming. Or maybe it's just Jenny Michealson's shitty alcohol at her crappy house party. Though I guess it's not so crappy with me in it. Arrogant, I know. But drunk me is arrogant, so deal with it. Because I am way too hammered to have a care in the world. While I'm not staggering around the rooms and slurring my words, I'm not in entire control of my body or words either. 

So maybe that's how I ended up against the wall making out with some guy I didn't know. His name? Who knows. What he looks like? Who. The. Fuck. Cares. Right now all I could think about was the fact that his lips were on my neck and my hands were in his hair. And then he picks me up, his hands around my thighs as we continue what we are doing, down the hall, up the stairs and through the door to the attic. What was this Guy #3? #7? At this point I'm so wasted I can't even remember which guy I was about to fuck. Because that was what I did. Guy after guy I end up in the same position. Me, pressed up against a wall with some boy with his lips crashing into mine, him carrying me up the stairs, careful not to stop what we were doing, ending up in the attic where the deed was done. And then, farewell. 

I never really remembered these guys. Even if I wasn't drunk, the sight of their faces escaped my memory as soon as they started to lean in. And if by some off chance I did remember them, it was irrelevant. Because I don't do seconds, I don't want a relationship right now and even if I could have gotten a friend out of it, I'm just not a sociable person. And so it continued. The mindless sex minus the mind games. It wasn't perfect, because perfection is unattainable, but it was crazy and it worked. 

As soon as I get my t-shirt back on, I'm out the door and down the stairs. I'm going to take a break. The better part of the night has started now, with the right kind of music and the not so crappy, not so expensive drinks. I grab a beer and head towards Ace, a familiar acquaintance of mine whom I often hang out with at these parties when I'm in need of a breather. He was on the dance floor with a bunch of guys I didn't recognize, right in the center of the mosh pit. One of the guys navigated his way out and started heading towards the backyard, cigarette box in his hand. Damn, I'm in need of a smoke. So what did I do? I followed.

He was leaning agains the side of the house, cigarette in one hand, his other playing with a lighter. I stretch out my hand and he wordlessly places another cancer stick in it. I light it with my own lighter. We stand there, side by side, smoking our lives away. And then he looks towards me. And his eyes stare at mine. They're intriguing, his eyes. One grey and one a dark, dark blue. I've seen heterochromia before but there's something about the contrast of his light grey and dark blue that's drawing me in and pushing me away at the same time. He drops his cigarette and crushes it with his shoe. I copy his movements, my eyes settling on the ocean in the distance, but his eyes don't move. I look back at him, my eyes drinking in the sight of his multicolored eyes. Then he leans in. And this time I don't forget. 

We do the usual, the hallway, the stairs, the attic. Tumbling down onto the bed, falling into a sweaty mess of arms and legs and lips running wild against each others necks. And then it's over and we redress ourselves. We go down, one after the other, him rejoining his friends on the dance floor and me heading towards my truck. It's parked in a clearing in the woods near Michealson's house. I get into the back, curl myself into a thick blanket and let the scent of the trees and distant sound of music rock me to sleep. 

And then suddenly I wake up. It's 5:30 am, the sun just rising. I sit up and watch the sunrise, trying to remember the previous night. Just like every other time, my mind is blank, from the type of beer I drank to the number of guys I slept with to the songs that were playing. But then at the back of my mind a flash of grey and blue come into focus. They're eyes I think. Whose eyes I don't know but I do know that they're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. And that I better hold onto it because I don't see many beautiful things in life. My life is just a mix of make-outs, mindlessness and muchness. Make of that what you will.