Don't drink and text!...or should you?

Here's an equation sure to get you a lot of regret:

Alcohol+boredom+a cell phone

Last night, I was out with the cute neighbor on a S.A.D. bar crawl. We were supposed to be meeting up with other single friends, but that didn't end up working out. (Although I realized that I really need to make some local female friends. I was planning on spending the evening with the cute neighbor, McNerdy, and the umpire. Those are the three friends I hang out with most frequently. Kind of hard to meet other men when with men.) The cute neighbor and I were having a good time, however, drinking too much and telling people that we were indeed Olympic ice dancers. We won gold in Torino, you see, but failed to qualify for Vancouver, apparently because I showed up to the qualifier hungover. Drunk people will believe anything. ANYTHING.

Later on in the evening, I wrapped up a conversation with an accountant who lives on my street and apparently goes to my gym. He left, and we ordered another round, and the cute neighbor started chatting up a girl. I looked around for someone to talk to, but by that time of night, everyone was either too far gone, or had already found their evening hook-up. I was full of vodka, I was bored, I whipped out my phone. I texted the Dark Horse. Something along the lines of my being an undisputed twister champion, and being extremely bendy, and shouldn't we take advantage of that?

It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but when I woke up this morning, I thought: Undo! Undo! Undo! That sounds that I heard was my status at having achieved ice queen nirvana flying- no, whooshing- out the window. I know that on the drunk-text scale (which we should really establish) of 1-10, 1 being "Haha, that was funny" and 10 being "I want to die, I want to die, I want to DIE," this one would probably fall on the lower end of the scale. But still. After consulting with both Grayer and Fenella, I sent my retraction: "Apologies. Must learn to never drink and text." Within a few minutes, a response: "No, it was funny!"

Whew.

Hours later, while I was watching actual figure skating on tv, a text dings: It was the Dark Horse, apologizing for not sending much of a response earlier, followed by "sooo... you're bendy, eh??? ;)"

Huh.

I responded that I am in fact bendy, and that I won 5 straight games of Twister while wearing a figure skating costume. Impressive?

Indeed. Then he asked if I still had the costume.

It was most unexpected. And very interesting. Apparently when there is no pressure of an actual relationship, you have nothing to lose and throw all the rules out, "going rogue" can work out well.

But just to be on the safe side, I think I'll hand my phone over to a responsible adult next time.