Excuse me a second I, I need to get my story straight.

It's that moment during the morning after the night before, when anxiety sets in.
I laugh out loud in a desperate attempt to reassure myself that everything is fine.
That there is no way I embarrassed myself last night.
Then my cell phone beeps, the ever nauseating Tri-Tone.

Sure enough my drunken, idle hands were up to no good.
Knowing my sober self all too well, drunk me deleted the evidence before morning.
All that was to be seen was the confused responses that were returned to me.

Good, perfect, I'm sure I was coherent.
3am texts are totally normal.
I wasn't drunk I was just playing scrabble through texts, obviously.

My mind wanders, yep I for sure texted him.
Probably regarding the "heated" conversation I was having about New York men, whilst sipping my third Jack and Ginger.
Screw it, delete.
Shit.
Serious move, I must mean business.
Immediately I regret the decision.
No longer in my contacts, I can only wait.
And wait.