Damn the Luck

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There comes a point in time when I really need to stop talking. And by 'talking', what I really mean is texting. Trust me. I'm not brave enough to say many of the things I'm easily able to text. Texting lets me hide which makes me substantially more courageous. Damn the luck. I always seem to send one too many, especially when I'm a couple mango margaritas North of sober. Damn the mango margaritas. It's where it all started to begin with. Ok, it's not where it 'started' started (that was my living room), but it was certainly where I found the balls to start it. Again. I'm really not sure what I did exactly. It was a drunken pronouncement. Drunken. I'm generally not at my best when drinking. Sadly, I usually recall that fact far too late. Damn the luck again.

Take tonight. I should have left well enough alone. And I would have. Sober. Alas, I was (and am) two mango margaritas in and decisively not sober. For the record, I wasn't (am not) drunk. I was (am) buzzed. Yes, off two drinks. I've cut way back on my weekday drinking (playtime is over, bikini season is here) and then there's the AEPs which seem to decrease my tolerance thus making me far more susceptible to poor decision making, including but not limited to drunk texting.

It's times like this that I truly feel half my age. I'm forty-two and I still can't handle my alcohol well enough to leave well enough alone? Apparently not. (Of course, without the drunken dumbass within, I wouldn't have this kick ass blog topic. Gotta love Grace). I can only imagine if I'd been able to text at the tender and monumentally stupid age of 21. I'm not sure I'd have made it to official adulthood in one piece. Or with a girlfriend, stupidity being what it is and far from attractive no matter the age.

I'm going to work on it. I've been good lately. Distracted perhaps and unwilling to fuck up. Then I drink, lower my resistance, and tell caution to suck it. I'm going to chalk it up to God's will. What will happen will happen. At least I assume it will. I may have slowed the process tonight (not like it's the first time), but I still believe that certain things are intended, no matter how many times I say too much or poke fate with a stick. Fate is fate and it's about damn time I stopped shaking the crap out of Destiny with both hands. I'm tired of waiting, but I've learned a lot about patience. The more impatient I am, the longer I have to wait. Damn the luck. Of course, what if tonight is what God intended? What if I didn't say (text) too much? What if I'm a dumbass for thinking that I think too much? Then again, what if I should have stopped talking and not written this blog? It's infinitely possible. Damn the luck.

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