sweet nothings

If he would rather watch Liverpool kick a ball around than have drinks with you on New Year's Eve, then no matter how many text messages he dishes your way the morning after, you must remain unmoved.

Or so I told myself.

But with champagne still sloshing around my system, when his SMS woke me up this morning, I succumbed. Again.

Why is it you can convince yourself that your eyes are wide open even when they are half shut? [This applies equally to my hungover situation now at work, as well as to the current state of affairs.]