What I Never Told Anyone (About That Night)

I'd prepped my entire self for that night.
Damnit I was ready. There were a few hitches - as there normally are when you're drunk.
But then we finally had the room just the two of us. I've already written down on the sweaty details, but towards the end when the alcohol had finally completed the process of turning your brain into mush, you asked me
"Baby, am I your boyfriend?"
In my own drunken state, I knew these words wouldn't last. You were speaking with the words of a 12 year old. Having consumed less than half the alcohol you'd had, I knew that my response could be construed as me taking advantage of you. It wasn't like I wasn't drunk - but I'd remember this in the morning and for weeks to come, and you wouldn't. Were you my boyfriend? For that time we'd been dating, and hooking up drunk and sober? The question hung there for a millisecond as ten thousand thoughts ran through my mind. You were the only person I was seeing, but you weren't captured in the exclusivity of being mine. We called each other baby, and had grown comfortable in each other's presence and it was a regular occurence to cuddle watching movies. Our quasi-relationship had become the talk of the building. And this night - our last night - was a night meant to boil down to this very question, yet meant to be asked in a very different state of mind. When I got off the plane in a different state the next day, would you be my boyfriend? Would I be your girlfriend? When I returned to this city, the same I called home, and you were gone, would you still be my boyfriend? This was the talk we were supposed to have that night, but didn't soberly discuss. Instead we'd polished off Miller Genuine Draft and Smirnoff Raspberry Vodka, and gotten to know every inch of each other's naked bodies. When we finally stopped touching and tasting and teasing, we'd settled into a comfortable position, me with my solid buzz and you with your solid drunkenness, waiting out the remaining time until your roommate returned, under the guise of trying to fall asleep. I hoped beyond hope that my answer would remain in the morning, but I knew with all knowledge that it wouldn't. Your question still haunts me and it's been 36 days since you've asked but never again asked me sober, and the answer still I wouldn't change, still ringing in my ears.
"Yeah, baby. Of course."