That night I was drunk, high and chemically happy and sauntered up to this redhead in a bar and said: Do you want to have intercourse with me?
I was dressed in tight jeans that showed off my (objectively) cute ass perfectly. My teeth had just been bleached to the hue of sugarcubes. I couldn't believe she didn't fall for my beauty and my bold come-on.
I have spent the evening picking on old scars. On my body. On my soul.
Once someone called me a bad kisser. Another time someone called me a bad friend. Somehow it was worse being called a bad kisser.