Good Night and Good Luck

I've been a bit lax lately about uploading recent clips, or about updating the blog at all. But as I was sitting in traffic on my way to Coachella yesterday, I came across the following story in this week's copy of The Independent. Honest, candid and disturbingly accurate, this story hits the nail right on its commitment-phobic, drunk little head:

Singled Out

Recovering the Dating Culture

by Sarah Hammill

There seems to be a disturbing pattern in my love life these days and it regularly involves three main ingredients: nighttime, alcohol, and my bed. Oh, and of course, my paramour of the moment. But before you jump to conclusions, allow me to clarify. I’m not talking about one-night stands. That would be easy enough to figure out. No, the circumstances at hand are more complicated than a bed ’n’ run situation.

Let’s take the other night, for example. My friend Sean and I have been dancing around the topic of dating for months. The crush was there, but circumstances were never quite right. And then, suddenly, we were both single. What we had planned to be a friendly dinner turned into a quasi-date and four large Sapporos later, we found ourselves back at my house with Sean too drunk to drive home. I, ever the gracious host, offered to let him stay over as long as he promised to be a gentleman. Surprisingly enough, he was. We drifted off to the tunes of Her Space Holiday and in the morning he gave me a big hug and was off to work.

It’s been a while since that night and what was once a whimsical mistake-turned-romantic-evening has become an obnoxious holding pattern. The last two times I’ve seen Sean, the exact same thing has happened. Four drinks and he can’t drive home. We find ourselves in my bed, cuddle ’til morning — upping the physical ante each time — and then off he goes, only to arrive again a few nights later, bottle in hand.

Last night I hit my limit. There we were in bed; he’s holding my hand and nuzzling the back of my neck. I should be enjoying it all, but this voice in my head wouldn’t quiet down. Over and over it kept playing: This is not dating.

To read the rest, click here and scroll down.