Hum, 4 AM and still have a paper to write. I need to be awake in four hours, unless I skip that class, but I shouldn't...

We talked about it and you said you didn't want to date me, which was fine. But that weekend our drunken cuddles (which were supposed to have stopped) exploded into drunken kissing and touching in all the wrong places. I went home and cried. Last night we came back to your room and as I tried to watch 30 Rock on your computer you laid in bed and kept on talking so I had to come over and try to make you shut up, which dissolved into me crawling farther and farther into bed with you, shoving off my sneakers, and curling up against your body while Brendan talked to us and played video games and you slowly put your hand in my bra. We spent the next three hours facing each other with our hands down each other's pants, kissing as quietly as possible because Brendan was only a few feet away.

I don't think about it anymore, us being together, but have resigned to be alright with our drunk stupidity and the thought that maybe, perhaps someday, you'll be ready.