nyet

   I wish I had somewhere to go. I want to text her and invite her back to my place but under the condition that we won't make out unless I get drunk enough, that there will be absolutely no emotional connection at all unless I need someone to cradle me like a baby while I cry. Somehow, I don't think she'll be interested. I text the Armenian manager of the liquor store near my house. He gave me his number because it's a stretch for me to get there before two when closing the bar on weekends. It's 2:46 but somehow he's still there - he let's me buy a twelve of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a shooter of whiskey. "You goin' to a party tonight?" He asks. Sometimes, when I'm in a better mood, I brag to him about the shindigs I go to. "Just chillin'" I say. I don't really care. He tells me to be careful and I wonder what he means. Should I strap on elbow and wrist pads? Get a flu shot? Buy condoms? None of the options that flit through my head interest me, but I say that I will anyway. By the time that I get home, Tonya hasn't texted me and I wonder if she's mad, sexually frustrated, or if she doesn't even care. I feel like shit. My eyes feel like they're sinking into their sockets and my face feels heavy. I sit on the floor and crack open beer after beer while watching cartoons and scrolling on Reddit. 

  My roommate comes downstairs around seven in the morning. I know this, because he looks at me with disgust and says "It's seven in the morning!" I 'cheers' my bottle at him and he responds "Is that my Cointreau?" 

"I ran out of beer. Relax, I'll buy you another one. Want a Cointreau-colada?" I've invented a new drink. It's Cointreau, soda water, and as much lemon juice as you can stomach to mask the taste of the Cointreau. "I have a dentists appointment." He says it in the same tone you might say I have my father's wake. "Dude, what the fuck?" My roommate starts slamming cupboards around to communicate how mad he is which I think is more than a little dramatic. Who actually cares about small shit like this? I don't work today, I pay my rent on time, I will actually replace the Cointreau, we've done this before, and  besides, no one is waking up early to drink Cointreau, this is a hail mary attempt to stave off the imminent "I'm out of beer" panic attack. His temper tantrum is bumming me out. Also, I'm (now) out of Cointreau and no where near sleep. He leaves but his shitty vibrations linger in the room. I take a tab of acid because I'm drunk, because there's nothing left to drink, because I want the energy in the room to improve, because I've got the day off, because I want to feel something other than this.