Sorry, ladies, he's taken.

Dorian had a bit too much wine last night. He was drunkenly talking in his sleep.

"The wrong police showed up...so they had to use 911...to get the fairy cops there."

At one point, he started passionately making out with me--but he missed my mouth, and instead started french kissing my cheek, which resulted in him forcefully jabbing his nose into my eyeball. After I made a sound of protestation, he woke up, blearily looked at me, and, in a slurred attempt at seduction, said, "So what you doin'?"

He vigorously licked my forearm, and promptly fell asleep again.

Oh, baby, oh baby.

We discussed this and other shenanigans this morning. During the conversation, he nodded off again, commenting that he thought he was supposed to apologize for something.

A few moments of snoring later...

Dorian: "I remember now."
Me: "Hmm?"
Dorian: "It wasn't the sexy penis thing, though...I polished the inside of your teeth. I'm sorry."

I'm not sure I want to know what that was about.