450 Jell-O Shots Gone and a Phone Call

With two golf outings under my belt, 450 Jell-O shots gone, a 1/2 sunburned arm (with a gorgeous farmer tan by the way), give-aways given out and the impending approachment of a big seminar I'm hosting tomorrow followed by a sold-out workshop I can't think of anything better to do but work 14 hours and then go out until 3am, can you?

So the golf outing ending yesterday and I went home tired, feet sore and burnt at 10:00 at night. In the process of the night I met a gentleman that could best be described as a Mack Truck (huge and GORGEOUS!), we exchanged numbers before heading home.

I walked into my sweltering apartment and tried to justify whether I would run or go to bed, I slid into my shorts and laid on my bed when the tone of Citizen King blared from my purse. It wasn't a number I recognized, so I picked it up thinking it might be MT.

It wasn't. The voice on the other end was eerily familiar, "I'm sorry, I've been at a golf outing all day - who is this?"

"TW"

"What?"

After apologies for being an a** and excuses for why, I met him at the High with JF. After a couple too many Stellas, we both got up at the same time and he pulled me close and said he really was sorry and then, we kissed. A lot. We ended up back at his place and he tried incredibly hard to have sex, but I just couldn't. He didn't call for 6 weeks and if I was going to have sex with someone, I'd want it to not be a one night stand = especially since we were intoxicated.

He wanted me to spend the night, but after he passed out and I was wide awake all I could do was put the covers over him and sneak out. I like him too much to be a drunken mistake. I got home at 3:30 and was at work by 7:45.

He hasn't called. I guess I made the right decision.