For Ardella
an excerpt

According to popular culture, it's a fairly frequent occurrence to have sex when drunk, and wake up the next morning thinking “What the hell did I do last night?” Well, that's the feeling I got the moment we were done. She was leaning over me, gingerly wiping saliva out of my hair (whose it was, I'm not sure. It could have been either of ours), and my mind repeated to itself, over and over, “What the hell just happened?” My face oscillated wildly, between a goofy grin and a look of horror. Like a man who sees something that his mind simply cannot handle, I burst into periodic spouts of maniacal laughter, and then sometimes into tears, and then Ardella would tongue my ear again, and I would fall pleasantly silent.