If you’re about to say something, then let current drunk me very kindly ask you to please shut up. I think future drunk me is on a roll by now, so just let her go on for a while.

Okay. Okay, here goes. Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Okay. So. So, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now. I would have done it spontaneously or something, like people seem to do, but I’m only 5’2” and you’re like 6 foot and even on tiptoes, dude, I’d need to forcibly yank your head down for your lips to meet mine and I think that kind of intensity would probably ruin whatever moment that could have been.

Oh fuck, current drunk me is listening to Juan Luis Guerra and on her fourth glass of wine. I’m blushing intensely now. Even writing this is making me blush. Fuck.

Look, getting to be closer to you has been one of the best parts of this otherwise dismal winter quarter. I was just starting to feel isolated, and having you reach out always, always made me smile. I’ve been scared to tell you how much your friendship has meant to me—I remember talking to you once about how hesitant you are to wear your heart on your sleeve, and I didn’t quite know how cool you would be with it if I decided to, like, not only wear my heart on my sleeve but straight up throw it at you—but I guess future drunk me has prematurely reached that point of no-going-back where she’s reading this to you, so there you go. To bring this full circle, I guess, my desire to kiss you has stemmed from how comfortable I’ve been feeling with you lately, from how much I like talking to you about stuff and how much I’ve liked feeling like you’re there for me and how of course I’m here for you if you want me to be.

But I’m going to call you out on something. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m getting closer to you (to the point where I even see you in a mildly romantic light), but I’m writing this because I don’t know what you want. I’m not expecting a letter from you or anything, but it’s just been starting to gnaw away at me lately. So I needed to tell you all of this in order to preface my big, confusing, wonderfully selfish question: what about me?

Current drunk me is trying to be cognizant of future drunk me’s feelings, so I’ll make this easy for you. You can kiss me, knowing I’ll kiss you back, or you can just shake your head. Just a head shake no or a gentle “No” (please make it clear, because I don’t know how lucid future drunk me is), and I’ll understand. I’ll walk out of here, wherever here is. I won’t text you first because let’s be real, I’ll be too busy trying to reconcile and figure out my own feelings for a while, but if you ever want to get to me, well… you have my phone number. And if you don’t, no worries. I want you around, but if you can’t do that, I get it.