Free form poetry by contributing writer Bill Nelson

When I said I was drunk when I met you, I was simply stating a fact. I was in no way implying that you are not attractive to my sober eyes.

When I vomited after the party, it was by no means related to the utterly disgusted look I gave you when I woke up.

Did that come out right?

When I told you I'd see you around….sometime…. maybe….on campus….or something, after I walked you out the back door of the dorm basement, I was merely tongue-tied with infatuation. And they lock the front door that early, you know that.

Right?

When I didn’t respond for six minutes after the time you asked if our relationship was purely sexual, I didn't mean for you to assume that is indeed the case. God willing, I can think of, like, three times when we didn’t have sex when you spent the night in my dorm room.

Granted, all three of those times we didn’t have sex involved me passing out because I had been drinking all day, please don’t take it to mean your friends told me you were coming into town, and that I really can’t stand to be around you sober. It's just that, see, I'm an alcoholic.

So they still count, right?

When I couldn’t seem to avert my eyes from your mom, and your aunt, please don’t think that I was in any way fantasizing about them. Even when I yelled your mom’s name at the height of passion, I was merely thanking her, along with God (I’m sure I yelled His name to) for creating you. You have such blessed genes.

When I think back on what you described as “our relationship,” I don’t blame you for breaking up with me, and I wish you the best. I have only this to ask of you: is your mom happily married? Because I already have her number.

You still live at the same house, right?

Continue to Sorry Asshole, Will You Forgive Me? »

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