How it starts: (So-Not-His-Name) Jason calls and asks if I want to come watch a movie at the Squirrel’s tonight. I say sure, I’ll be there at 7.

(Remember how I drank two nights in a row? And how I totally, totally had to work tonight?)

Then Jason text messages me at 5:00. He’s at a bar down the street. Do I want to come have a margarita with him?

Blogfriends, what do you think I replied?

So then we went to buy tequila, and limes, and trekked over to the Squirrel’s. And Bad Idea showed up, of course. And there was lots and lots of margarita making. And no movie watching. And much good music, and many bad jokes, and altogether too much, and altogether not enough, flirting with me by Bad Idea. And maybe a bit by the Squirrel. Because, friends, it’s spring in a big way.

For the record: I think Bad Idea is a dork. I think he’s generally a bit annoying, and self-obsessed, and that it will be a complete freakin’ miracle if anything ever, you know, happens between us. And yet I still–STILL!–will stay until midnight, letting both of us consider the possibility that I’ll come back to his house and dragging out leaving because, hmmm, should we? Or shouldn’t we? Before I finally (finally!) have the sense to say it’s time for me to take a bus home while I still can. Even though the Squirrel is suggesting that really, it’s okay if I want to just sleep over.

Go me! I so have trouble on my mind this spring. But I did come home, alone, so that’s progress of a sort, right?

(This drunk-blog-of-no-substance brought to you by Sauza tequila.)

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