Last of a Dying Breed?

I was drunk beyond belief one night not too long ago. It was my unofficial Dickhead Detox outing. It wasn’t complete drunkenness though. There was no dancing on tables and I definitely didn't manhandle any potential suitors below the waist. With the amount of grey goose in my system, I have to say, I was pretty well-behaved.

So, I invited an incredibly attractive man (let’s call him Larry) to come party with me that night. I met Larry a while back and had kind of just put him on the backburner because he lived way to far from me. Distance can be an inconvenience when it comes to jump-offs. It matter now. He was the victim for the night. If all had gone according to my plan, he would have been my "reward" for the night. I had just gotten out of a 1-year predicament (because for me to call it a relationship would be inaccurate) and convinced myself the only real way I can get him out of my system is if I added someone new to the roster. The plan was to gauge Larry’s interest, and if he was indeed interested, he’d invite me over to celebrate me finally getting over the ex. I'd tell him let’s pick up a bottle of wine and we can watch a late night movie...or “something.”

Larry shows up looking even more scrumptious than I remembered. We talk, get our drink on, and I'm really digging him, hitting him with the A game all night. He seems like he's feeling me too. Oh yes! So we flirt back and forth throughout the night and by the end of the evening, he puts it out there that he would be more than happy to fulfill any needs I might have for the rest of the night and the near future. Oh Snap! Here's my chance to get it poppin, to get Mr. dickhead ex out of my system for good. This is what I have been waiting for... and what do I do after 6 grey goose and sprites and 2 shots of patron later?

It strikes again, my terrible habit of thinking out loud. Word vomit.

I ask what his current situation is. (Why the hell I waited till I was damn near jumping his bones at the lounge, I don't know.) He has a girl. And even though this is supposed to be a mere jump-off and the fact that he was taken totally shouldn't matter, in my drunkest state of mind, I tell this guy who is the epitome of physical perfection something along the lines of, "I respect relationships. No can do. But, you have my number, if you ever find yourself unattached, holla."

In my absolute drunkenness, I am still a lady.

A complete fool? Or the last of a dying breed?