Worse than a drunk-dial
And as I stand under this little trickle of a lukewarm shower, a dark sense of gloom settles over me. Some sort of regretful shadowy feeling. I think what the HELL did I do last night? Did I make out with a coworker? No. Did I dance on the bar? No, no that's not it. Did I drunk dial an ex. Oh shit, no it's worse. I drunk POSTED a zillion strange men on CL's Women Seeking Men. Shit. shit. Now I will have an inbox full of dick pics and notes from lascivious stalkers. And what if I didn't spell check?? The spelling and grammar perfectionists will have at me next. And wait.. what exactly did I write? Oh god, I didn't reveal my long and agonizing stint of celibacy did I? How will I get to work in time to destroy all of the computers because I know my coworkers read CL all day. Surely they will know it was me.
I begin packing my bags because now I need to change my identity and move out of the country.
First I check my e-mail and yes my inbox is full. E-mails are arriving at about one response per minute for at least an hour. No kidding. I read one and and... oh... hey this guy is nice. I open the next and the next and the next and everyone is really nice. Most of the notes are along the lines of "Buck up little camper, you'll find someone soon." Damn. You guys get a bad rap. It was a full 30 e-mails before I even got a dick pic.
So, I just want to say thanks guys. You're way more stable and kind and funny than I expected. Yes, some of you sent stock replies. Yeah, some of you didn't read what I wrote. But most of you were really sweet and encouraging.
So I didn't change my identity and leave the country and my headache went away and the sun came out and... well, you get the idea.
I drunk posted. And I'd do it again.