I think… I am going to break my alcohol fast.
A quick prologue: I promised Her many months ago that I wouldn’t touch alcohol. Not at least till someday I sat across someone I could trust with my life and more [uggg, I know I know. Sounds terribly prissy-polly-potty Victoria Holt-ish – I don’t quite mean it like THAT that… butttt…]. BUT. T’was such a harsh and binding decision because the last time I drank, t’was with a boorish drunk bastard who had no respect for my being. An old friend [ha ha ha] who over the years has blamed his bordering-on-bad-behaviour unfazed and unfailingly on the bitch-in-the-bottle. That night he overstepped boundaries, and somehow I felt guilty.
Anyhow. Arse-foragers apart, it also seemed right. Enough of bad boys and booze forabit I thought.
However, something tells me I’m going to be part of things in the near future that I’m not going to want to remember the next morning. [YOU-who-knows-what-I’m-talking-about, you’d better farkin’ be sure about this] So. I shall consult with Her, request a sabbatical from my fast, and get a bit wasted in the next ten days. After that I’ll be back to myself [With a clear conscience, and a badarsed hangover no doubt].
I pretty-polly-please promise.