He loved me on the weekdays,
when he was clear-headed enough to comprehend
the effort of cultivating a semi-lasting relationship with someone else
because if he had the choice, he wouldn’t do it sober.


Wasted, smashed, tipsy, three-sheets-to-the-wind, gone. Whatever you want to call it there’s something to be said for the magical little moment when your BAC goes from zero to .08.

You’re probably going to watch an in flight movie without headphones because you won’t spring for the $2 pair they offer, and you’re going to ask your seat-neighbor what’s happening every five minutes because she was smart enough to not lose the free pair Apple provided her with. Basically you’re a monster.