It's not like I can control who I want to sleep with

I went to a party Saturday night where I may or may not have drunk an almost entire bottle of wine.  The jury is still out on that as I say that if I had I would have fallen over and/or ran out into the street screaming about the zombie apocalypse.  Christopher agrees with me because I’m sort of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.  And while it is entirely possible that I had the almost whole bottle, I still feel like someone else snuck some when I wasn’t looking.  It was out on the counter and when I left the bottle it had at least 3 glasses left, and when I came back to it, about 1. 

But it was a rough night to begin with on account of my clothing situation.  And by that I mean that I had one of those days where I hated everything I owned and nothing fit right and nothing was the right style and OH MAH GAWD I hate being that girly. 

And yet I survived. 

During the course of the night the subject came up of my free pass.  You know what I’m talking about, right?  That person you get to spend one night with if he ever knocks on your door and asks?  Chris had recently told me that his was Florence Welch of Florence and the Machine, which I’m perfectly fine with.  But I couldn’t think of one for myself.  I know it used to be Dave Matthews, on the basis of his song lyrics alone.  But I think I may have outgrown Dave.  I still love his music, but didn’t want to use my free pass on him. 

But then it hit me.

Opie.

No, not that Opie.

Sons of Anarchy Opie.  

And here’s a couple more, just because I like them.

I know, I know.  I have no good reason for this decision, other than there’s just something about him that makes me, well, want him.

So there’s my dirty, greasy, hairy, free pass.

Who’s yours?

*I'm sure it goes without saying, but I didn't take these photos.  I assume they are the product of Sons of Anarchy.