things could be looking up

Saturday night made up for the foggy, dramatic haze that was Friday evening.

Leslie and I made plans for the bars, the same plans we make week after week. We no longer look at this as a novel idea - it's just what we do. After drinks at a small place near my apartment (a place far better suited to beginning your evening than rounding it out), we walked past the Lincoln Park brownstones and headed to our usual stretch of fratty bars. You'd think this would get old after awhile, but there are nights when I'm craving a place where I can dance my ass off with my girlfriends, ignore the guys in the striped shirts and square-toe shoes, and truly enjoy myself. Seeing as it was just Les and I, this area was exactly where we needed to be. She was without her boyfriend for the night and me, I've been without a boyfriend for over a year now.

Leslie made a few calls, one of which was to C, the gay-straight friend of her's that kissed me at the bar last weekend. (He is definitely not gay. We came to that conclusion prior to him kissing me, but I do have this strange knack for attracting guys who other people think may have gay tendencies - but that's another post entirely). C was with friends, heading to a bar across from the place we were. Another beer later and Leslie and I were making our way across the street to one of the few bars on the street where we've yet to go. It's definitely way too clubby for my taste and I doubt I will be making a return trip, but since we flirted our way out of the $5 cover and got there before the line formed, it wasn't too awful.

Music was good and loud, the crowd was noisy and 50% foreign exchange students, and we were all having a great time. I was trying to keep Leslie away from the strange and potentially creepy dudes that were hovering around her, but early in the night C and I paired off and left Leslie to fend for herself.

When the lights went on and the Tupac abruptly shut off at 3 AM, we were ready to call it a night. Unable to get in touch with her boyfriend (who lives just across the street from the bar), Leslie put herself in a cab and went home. C and I slid into the next cab, unsure of where we would go: his apartment or another bar? Both of our bladders were exploding so we chose his place (really, I think this was pretty obvious from the moment we said goodbye to Leslie).

Dirty details aside, it was a great night. The sleeping together was how I like it - somewhat romantic, somewhat just sleeping. The right mix of cuddling and sticking to your own side of the bed. I hate it when there's too much distance or too much spooning. Generally, I don't cuddle. I can only take so much before I want to spread out and not have an awkward arm under my collarbone.

We woke up groggy and looking rough, especially me and my mess of hair. He drove me home (after telling me he had a car the night before, there was no way he was going to make me take a cab) and, in our driveway, asked for my number after a lingering kiss.

Now I wait.

And the best part about all of this? I completely forgot about The Returning Ex.