Sometime while I was out last night, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I assumed it was a text, but it vibrated again. It took my phone out. Blue was calling.

“What do you think this is about?” I showed my phone to our mutual friend.

He laughed, “probably a drunk dial. Take it. It could be funny.”

I answered my phone and Blue asked right away, “where are you right now?” I named off the place. “Great, great, I’ll be there in five minutes, don’t move.” He hung up. I gave my friend a knowing look and we started laughing.

“I think I’m being booty called,” I shook my head and put my phone away.

Blue came in a few minutes later and made a beeline to us. He was quick to get me over to the couch and start trying to talk me up. I was sober, amused. His breath was hot on my collarbone and his hands were gentle but intentioned, “I don’t know, I don’t get attracted to girls like I get attracted to you. It’s your confidence, your sexuality, the way you look, that damn freckle…”

It’s hard to pick out the sincerity from the alcohol and the ambition sometimes. It felt nice to hear him say those things and I wouldn’t be crushed if he were just saying them to get some, but come on. And then there was his hand, at my throat.

“What are you doing?”

Blue chuckled, “you told me you liked this.”

“Not in the front of the children,” I gestured to my friends and got up. A few minutes later, he was off talking up some guy. 

I have no problem with the fact that I didn’t get any last night. And Blue later apologized for his incredibly drunken behavior.

But I wish things weren’t so blasé sometimes.