I refuse to admit defeat!

I called the Hipster Socialite at 12:34 am. "Hey I'm almost there!" "Great! We're on the roof. The door is open so come on up!"

After we met HS and I had been talking for weeks and just never made it out together. From the appearance of things he's kind of a mess, but something told me he's worth the trouble. He reminded me of JH a little, but light years more sure of himself, and with the promise of something more. He's cute. He's nice. He's Salty's age. He calls me because he feels like it and we have fun talking to each other.

Sooo I met him at a party at 12:50 a.m., already tipsy from wine and dinner. He was cuter than I remembered and he introduced me to his friends. He's silly and friendly and a little shy. His friends were sweet and funny. They reminded me of my New Orleans friends but less married. They reminded me of my college friends all grown up.

He was sober. If his inhibitions had been looser I think he might have kissed me. If I had been less drunk I might have kissed him. I wanted to kiss him but I was intimidated by his friends. I didn't want to be that drunk girl who was kissing HS. And besides, there's always drama when you kiss someone for the first time at a party with their friends around...I have not-dated enough to know that quite well. The piñata broke. We sucked on lollipops and made eyes at each other while talking in groups.

Suddenly it became time to go. I didn't want to leave him though--there hadn't been enough time to talk to him. I felt like I could sit up talking to him all night long. He squeezed my hand as I followed him down the stairs with his two drunken friends. We (I) hailed a cab. The drunk girls hurried him and I said, "I'm going toward Prospect Park." He looked at me for a long minute apologetically and then hugged me. "I have to take care of them," he said. "Call me tomorrow?" he got in to the taxi and suddenly I was alone on the street.

I was alone, drunk, and confused. I thought we were having fun... I thought his friends seemed to like me. I thought he would at least put me in a cab!

I'd had a rough couple of days with money (went and got my petty cash wallet stolen) and my poor judgment told me it was a good idea to take the subway home. While strolling (weaving probably) home in the early morning light I noticed I was walking on 10th street. (Oh come on!)

I got a series of text messages from the Hipster Socialite; the theme was, "I'm sorry but I have to take care of my friends first and you said you were fine to get a cab." That last part is true; I did say I was fine. I did hail the cab for them. I did hear myself say "go go go!" as his friends climbed over each other and into the taxi. He'd asked me again, I'd reassured him I was fine before that long "I want to kiss you" look he gave me.

There's that I don't need help thing again. Why did I do that when what I wanted was some help (and sure, maybe a kiss or two)? Did I not trust him to help me? Do I feel like I have to take all responsibility on myself? Was I sympathizing with his bros before hos behavior? Was it the alcohol that made me say I was okay by myself even though I knew I wasn't?