I’ve been a little boy crazy since my break-up. The first man out of the Brian gate was Thor. The bartender. Elizabeth and I call him Thor, thats not his name. He got the nickname on account of his tall, dope ass body, broad shoulders, and big hands. We had been flirting for months. More of it on my end, Thor is a little shy. Also, both of us were hitched for most of this flirtation, but both of us were unhappy and sexually frustrated. Which made for great over-the-bar energy. Safe. And charged. Then it seemed as if we were both to be free and clear around the same time! I should mention that Thor was newly clean and sober, so he was trying hard to be responsible and appropriate. His flirtations were present, but reserved. Basically, driving me nuts. I’m a let’s-be-adults-and-do-this kind of gal. We had been single for a couple weeks with no sign of movement, so I gave up on the idea, and accepted our platonic friendship, when bam! He pulled a fast one.

My girl Chase and I went in one lazy Sunday to wet our mouths and look for new talent. I thought he had stopped working Sunday’s. Sunday was a regular drinking day (till closing) for Elizabeth’s and I, so we knew his schedule. Not in a creepy, stalker way, more on the bar hero side. I wasn’t trying to avoid him, in fact, I was actually trying to be less creepy by drinking on his day off, but there he was, in his tall and handsome glory. He said he was managing. Which meant he'd be on my side of the bar. A new development. Halfway into our time there, he sat and ate dinner with us. It was all very sweet.

Chase is awesome and our time together is never boring. In the seven years we’ve been close, I think we’ve accumulated eighteen total sober minutes in each other’s company. So, five cocktails in and a couple trips to the bathroom, we were the bells of the bar. Around 10pm she was turning into a pumpkin (man at home) so we said our goodbyes. I was going to have one more and do a little writing. Into my last drink drink, Thor slides up next to me and says he’s getting off soon and would I like to hook-up? I was genuinely surprised. Oh life, you’re a funny fuck. It's always the minute you let go, have minimal make-up on, and wearing a t-shirt, that..

Uh, hell yeah, I’d like to! I live closer to the bar, so we decide on my place. “I don’t have any condoms”, I tell him. Never one to mince words.

“I’ll pick some up on the way.” And it was on! I would have preferred to be a little less drunk, but whatever.

He arrives. I give him the nickel tour and put on some music. The next part is a wee hazy, but since I can recall most of the actual sex, I think it’s safe to assume we got undressed at this juncture. He was a good kisser and thankfully, a decent cock. Which had been up to much debate between Elizabeth and I. We even brazenly drew a life-sized penis on two napkins once and asked him if we were close.

He opened the condom with amazing ease and I swear, with one hand, he slipped it on! Impressive. (Or perhaps I only had one eye open). We maneuvered into and out of all the positions. It was fun, but I was too buzzed from all the booze and whatnot. Plus, it had that rushed, semi-uncomfortable feeling. No way I was going to come. Also, I kept feeling like my breath was not amazing (him being dead sober and aware). Why I didn’t just go to the bathroom and use mouthwash or reach into my goodie drawer for gum is beyond me. Two condoms later and my bed two feet away from the wall, it was over. He got dressed super quick. Don’t get me wrong, no way I wanted him staying the night or anything, but I had waited so long for this, I wanted more skin and kissing. No matter. I hugged him goodbye and that was that. The next time I went into the bar, he acted a little odd, which was par for his course, but I was hoping we had crossed a comfort line. Him having been inside me and all, but apparently not. I was also hoping to get a second chance. Be a little less inebriated. No go on that one either. He text me the following day and said that fucking me (I’m sure he didn’t use that word) had brought up some unhealthy feelings, and after talking to his sponsor, he probably couldn’t do it again. I smelled bullshit, but what was I gonna do. I told him that I understood and I supported him. Which was true. I was bummed, for sure. We had such a crazy build-up, I don't think we had a fair chance that night. The woes of the one-night stands. Plus, I hate the idea of him thinking that I have bad breath. I guess I’ll just have to live with it. Lord knows it wasn’t my first sloshy hook-up. Nor the last.

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