I had many embarrassing drunken moments in the days of my youth, but this particular one kept on going for about three years. I had recently broken up with Mr. Rattus #1, with whom I hadn't conjoined since the honeymoon (bad trip, bad marriage). Well, after two years without gettin' some, I was, let's say, avid. Mr. Rattus #1 had a friend/band mate who was a bit of a tart and would in fact sleep with pretty much anything that presented itself as ready, willing and able. So I got all liquored up one night while out with friends and threw myself at the tart in the bar in front of everyone I knew. The tart, and I still can't believe this, turned me down. TURNED ME DOWN!
Shortly after this, I started going out with the man who would become Mr. Rattus #2 (who got all manner of kudos, by the way, because I was such a catch). And shortly after THAT, Mr. Rattus #2 wound up in a band with the tart. Now, I actually liked the tart - he was smart, creative and funny and I really enjoyed talking to him - so I swallowed my pride and made a point of visiting with him upon occasion. After a while, I noticed that he would get this terrified, deer-in-the-headlights look any time I was in the room. It dawned on me that he thought I wanted his body (I did, but for one night only) and that I was sexually harrassing him. Upon realizing this, I made a point of bringing how wonderful Mr. Rattus #2 was, how much I loved Mr. Rattus #2, how my life would not be complete without Mr. Rattus #2. I had to do this for three stinking years before he became comfortable enough to just be my friend again.