The good ol’ drive-by. The one thing I was told I had to do at least once when I’m still young enough. The thing I never felt like I would do because I had standards. Well, I did it tonight.
Picture this: a crowded dance floor, the buzz of alcohol, leery men all round and enthusiastic albeit drunk girls. Granted, one of them had been his sister, but who knew how far the truth had been stretched.
He was sweet and looked like a boy I once loved. Whom I still probably love. All thoughts of B flew out of my mind, all I could think of was him. They shared origins. How could I have not been swept up by his charm?
It was a drive-by. You go up, do it, and pull away. Then you forget about it, no muss, no fuss. I knew it, he knew it, his sister, who had been busy taking pictures of us knew it. And you just know those pictures are going to end up on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or Somewhere.
I’m not sorry I did it. But already I regret.