I met a girl at a party on New Years Eve. She was about 5'5 or 5'7. Strawberry blond hair with a trendy short neck-length haircut, almond brown eyes. Attractive, and certainly nothing wrong with her. She was a little aloof in her social circles, but that wasn't what I was concerned with.
We talked and drank, and watched the ball drop on the rented big-screen.
Later that night we wind up in a bedroom and we start kissing, which leads to groping, and we decide this is how were gonna ring in the new year, but my conscience comes up.
(Hey, who do you think you are taking advantage of a drunk girl?)
My conscience asked me.
"She not drunk. I'll prove it."
"Hey are you really drunk?" I asked her.
"No?" She answered questioningly.
"See, are you happy now?" I asked my conscience.
(Well, you do have a condom right?)
"Oh right. forgot about that." So I got my pants from the floor, fished out the protection, and put on the rubber.
(Well how do you know she's over 18?)
"Couldn't you have asked me that before all that? Fine, I'll ask."
"You are over 18, right?"
"Yeah?" She answered again.
(She could be lying. Ask to see her ID card.)
"Can I see you I.D. just to be sure?"
So I reach over the edge of the bed to get her pants and wallet from inside it. Sure enough, she was 20.
"Now are you happy?" I asked my conscience.
"Excuse me..." The girl asked me.
"But who are you talking to?"
It's probably no surprise to me, that she hasn't returned any of my calls the following week.... or ever again.