Confession of a Risky Night Out

So last night was wild. I'd had one too many drinks at the bar and ended up in this stranger's place, let's call him Jack. We didn't really know each other, but there was something about him that made me feel brave enough to do things I wouldn't normally consider. It wasn't a fling or anything planned; it just sort of happened after way too much tequila and the sound of his heartbeat under my ear was all it took for the walls between us to come down. We ended up in bed, exploring each other's bodies thoroughly with no pretense. I gave myself fully into the moment, letting go of every reservation I had. It wasn't exactly planned, but there's something exhilarating about taking a risk like that, something that might have seemed reckless or dangerous to others felt incredibly right and thrilling for me at that moment. Now here I am this morning, feeling just as much buzz from last night's adventures as the alcohol left in my system. It's not like I'm looking for anything serious out of it, but what does that make me? Am I being impulsive to a fault, or is there room for moments of pure spontaneity and freedom even when you're in your mid-twenties and trying to keep things on the straight and narrow? Let me know if this is just another round of bad decisions in the making.