i had a good time.
until we left the bar without so much as a thought of how we were getting home.
several balls-frozen-off blocks later, whilst crossing the hennepin avenue bridge over the mighty mississip, [[though a lovely view]], the effects of the whiskey pintbottle and champagnes and dirrrty marrrtinis and whatever-else-i-had wore off. instantly.
like magic.
or even, magick.

the curse of gaybarring with andymonkey had paid a remarkably early visit this year!

godbless the boy, i love him to pieces....

but, [[it never fails]]...

the ONE person i would even attempt to THINK about the possibility of MAYBE FLIRTING with in the ENTIRE bar...

is the ONE guy that can't seem to leave andymonkey alone, much to mr. monkeys slight dismay.

there is no one to blame for this;
plus, i DO like my ironies cruel;
plusplus, a'monkey said he would give me the guy's number.

[[which i won't accept. cos obviously, i had me my whiskey/champagne/marrrtini/whathaveyou-goggles on.]]
[[[moreover, his name was billy, a name for which i do not have the slightest care.]]]

i write the above because i do not wish to convey [or confront] the post-holiday/-friendgathering depression bethany and i are going through.