Regret is never enough

It ended with regret.

Like most things I do in my life. But at the time I had no idea that it would end that way. I never do. I just plunge straight into things without thinking.

"At a certain point you get used to things not working out for you." I lament to the drunk next to me.

Shane is shit-faced and leaning to close to me. The black derby styled hat perched on his head looks ridiculous.

"This is a fucking dive bar." I tell myself. "No way in hell a guy should be in here wearing a hat like that."

I am going to tell Shane my darkest thoughts. I am going to tell him the things that make me ashamed to be alive. I want to choke him on my perversity, my demons.

"We all think things like that, man." He breathes at me.

The air around me is now toxic with stale onions and vomit.

"I want to tie a woman up with masking tape, and douse her in ketchup, and wrap her in plastic lawn bags and give her so much alcohol and pain killers that she doesn't wake up for a day or two after we start to fuck."

I pause just long enough to gulp down what's left of my beer.

"I want to fuck her only through the drunk daze of chemicals. I want her to wake up feeling violated. I want her to beg for me to do it again." I let my voice soften and drift away.

"Man that ain't nothing." Shane says.

Shane takes off his hat and wipes his brow with both of his pale skinny hands.

"I mean…" He stutters.

"I've done stuff I regret." He adds.

I look over at Rhonda the bartender. Her face is grinning at me. I think she loved every minute of my little soliloquy.

"You're one CRAZY ass mutherfucker." She tells me. "You know that?"

"I think I do."