because i can laugh at myself

we have all been dumped and some of us handle it with grace and some of us fuck it all up. i bet you can guess which category i fall into. i went to the bar. you should never go to a bar when in the middle of a break up. here is why: 1)you will be drinking on an empty stomach because no one ever eats during a break up. 2) your friends will try and console you by buying you lots of shots. i went to the bar. i had nothing to eat. i cannot count the number of shots that began to magically appear before me and that was on top of the steady stream of beer. i could have gone to a coffee shop. i could written it all out or painted, instead i went to the bar. i don't remember getting home. i don't remember many things. the next thing i do remember is standing in my bathroom as my friend was dressing the wounds. how i fell is a great mystery but no doubt, one witnessed by many people. i took my pants off so she could tend to the knee, the knee that now has a very unsightly hole in it. now i do not know what i said to my friend or even if i pissed her off but the next thing i knew, she wanted to leave. she was probably not very sober herself and thought it a good idea to walk home from my house. i live on the shooting side of st. claude. it is never a good idea to walk at night from my house. keep in mind that i was barefoot and in my underwear, bleeding. she went to leave. i followed her outside and i think an argument ensued that culminated with me chasing her down the street in my bare feet and underwear, screaming it's not safe, it's not safe. this of course was witnessed by most of my neighbors. i went to the bar. you never go to the bar during a break up. i'm probably on you tube, flailing about in my boxer briefs, bleeding from alcohol induced wounds. great, just great.