I’m afraid I’m becoming a weekly clubber. This is the second weekend in a row I’ve ended up dancing somewhat drunkenly at the local gay dive bar. It’s always fun, but oh-so-trashy, and something I swore I’d never do.

Near the end of the evening, I noticed a guy, Mark, whom my friend Darrell had been dating off-and-on for a couple months. Mark and I had met a few times when he and Darrell were hanging out, so I went over to say hi.

Me: Hey! How have you been?
Mark: Great! What about you?
Me: I’m fine.
Mark: Did you get my message?
Me: Message? What?
Mark: Yeah, I called you the next day, I swear. Didn’t you get that message?
Me: Next day? I’m Darrell’s friend. You and I haven’t slept together.
… silence …
Mark: Ah, shit…

Not knowing if you’ve slept with someone or not: Sign #146 that you may be a slut.