To celebrate the 4th, I had intended to drive down to D.C. and partake in a mock romantic fling. However, since my car has been less reliable than a boy, I've been forced to stay in PA for the time being. After a long day of babysitting and praising medical science for the miracle of birth control, it seemed that a drinking game was the only proper way to rescue my Saturday night. Several rounds of asshole and pass the bowl later, I found myself nearly naked and atop some random boy. Fucking while intoxicated always seems like a really great idea, but in actually, it leads to a lot of fumbling, awkward moments. Not to mention the muscle stiffness accompained by positions that seem fabulous while drunk but are really just aggravating your back.

Dealing with the morning after is the worst part about being a hussy. Boys all too often go to bed with the illusion and don't like waking up next to the reality. I always wish that I could just leave after the sex, and avoid the awkward parts, but then you risk seeming like a cold bitch who just wanted sex (even though that's probably true). So I stay, and boys tell me they'll call me sometime when I eventually do leave, even though we both know that isn't true. I guess they say that so they don't feel like a dick, which is a shame because I don't know who told them that having sex with a stranger and never talking to them again was a dick thing to do.

By the way, hickies are almost impossible to hide in the summertime. Despite the many old wives tales suggesting that they can somehow be covered up, the only thing that actually works is turtlenecks. But since it's 90 degrees out, a turtleneck just makes one seem all the more suspicious. And that is why sex while drunk is a bad idea; cause at the time, it doesn't occur to you that no matter how good those neck bites feel, you're going to be regretting them for the next three days.

Brought to you by the letter L.