Fuck buddies, booze & cells do not mix...

I ran off to Hell-Ay—a totally last minute decision. Called D, long-time lover turned dear friend who was thankfully in town, & he told me to come out & chill. My decision was driven by the fact that I've been upset lately & needed a little diversion—as well as comfort in the arms of a friend.

And Tommy got just a little bent out of shape when I told him who I was with. I hadn't planned to, but D & I'd had just a bit too much to drink by the time Tommy & I talked, &—you know the old adage 'loose lips sink ships?'—well, out it came. "Did you fuck him?" he snapped. God he was angry, so of course I said 'no.' Then he 'disappeared' & I spent many ensuing minutes ranting to his voicemail because I thought he'd hung up on me in the middle of the intense conversation we were having. I am someone who should not be allowed within three miles of a phone when trashed &/or emotionally unglued...

He called back several hours later. Actually, we dialed each other at the exact same moment. His call cancelled mine out, so I listened to what he had to say before calling back. He said his cell had died—that he hadn't hung up or fallen asleep on me. He didn't sound angry, so I figured everything was okay & phoned back. But then he said alot of really hurtful things, including denying he'd demanded to know whether or not I'd fucked D, that he didn't care... I bawled my eyes out, & D just held me. That's what friends are for...

Providing Tommy ever even speaks to me again after my very bad behavior, this saga will continue.