Please refer to part one for more details on this post.
After ordering a round of drinks, I explained to my girlfriend the conundrum that I had just been faced with while holding on to her arm. She then understood. But did say that it would have been easier to say hi, be polite, and move on with the fun evening of frivolity. What can I say? I just don’t do well with the exes. Please refer to saved by the bush, it will give you an idea of how not so wonderful I am with them.
So we’re sitting at the bar drinking with our much needed martinis. Our girlfriend came in, told us she was smoking upstairs with this cute guy. She explains his features to us… OH SHIT. It’s the ex. Ugh! FUCK MY LIFE! Why me? I need MORE than a martini for this bullshit. I’m not mad at her. She didn’t know who she was flirting with. But this has just made the situation even more complicated. There’s a good chance he could come back in at any minute. He could come in and buy her a drink. We need to cut and run before that issue could arise.
I call over our bartender. I tell him we NEED another round of drinks TO GO fast and the check. Thank goodness he knows us. He pushes our order to the front of the line.
Side note: Yes, it pays to make friend with your local bartenders. Make them your peeps! Because they are awesome!!! We grab our drinks, I give him a hug and a LARGE tip.
The girls and I roll out.
I know that we stopped at another bar. I just don’t really remember it. I was quite a few drinks in at this point. I had lost feeling in my feet. So, either nothing happened at the next bar because it was dead. Or I’ve blocked it out for my own emotional stability… Hopefully I didn’t go Coyote Ugly with it and dance on the bar. I’ll never know. It happens on girls night out.
Okay, so onto the next establishment that I actually do slightly recollect. This bar is well known for the college crowd. It’s an indoor/outdoor bar with pool tables below. This bar is not my favorite. Lots of memories here. I try to avoid this bar. But for some reason, I agreed to go. I have no idea why. I think it was the alcohol talking.
We order more drinks of course. I’m lucid enough to tell the girls that I’m okay with this bar as long as we stay upstairs. Under no circumstances are we to go downstairs. With my to go drink in one hand I enter the bar. A very nice gentleman takes note of my girls and I. He offers to buy us a round of shots. It would be rude of us to say no. I’m a southern lady, I have manners after all. He orders us breakfast shots. I like to think of it as a healthy shot. Because you get orange juice with it. A little vitamin C is good for everyone.
Now after the shot, all bets were off. Next thing I know, I’ve got my to go cup in one hand, grab my girlfriend’s arm again, and start heading toward the stairs. That’s right my beloved readers, the stairs. The stairs that go down. The place I’m not supposed to go. My girlfriends are both looking at me with that, what the fuck is going on look? I’m just dragging them along, with nothing but my to go drink, breakfast shot in my system and bravado.
We make it to the bottom of the stairs. It’s packed. I survey our surroundings. I then head to the bar. I see my target. I order another drink. With my drink in hand, I go over to the exe’s bestie and start chatting. We are talking and I notice a shirt wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf. I then proceed to try and take the shirt from him. As I’m attempting to steal his shirt, he grabs hold of it. He explains that he and a couple of his buddies went to a strip club. The t shirt was a souvenir after a fun evening. Hence why he is still holding it and yet letting me have it.
But damn, I don’t know why I wanted that shirt! At this point my girlfriend realizes I’m starting to go downhill. Because I won’t let go of the stripper souvenir shirt. The bestie is so surprised. He’s never seen me like this before. He actually seems to be enjoying the tug of war with his shirt.
Then another girlfriend came down the stairs. She always the life of the party. She saw me, yelled out shots! And it was on. I left the stripper souvenir shirt behind and followed her to the bar. My other girlfriend smoothed things over with bestie and came over to us afterward.
My girlfriend was then asking, “Green apple?”
Let me take a moment and explain green apple. I used to drink nothing but green apple martinis. Until I drank way too many one night. Then ended up throwing up green apple all night long. At that point I realized no more green apple martinis. And so it became my code phrase for the girls. If I say green apple, it’s time to drag my ass out of the bar and take me home.
She asked me again, “Green apple?” I then slurred happily green apple to her. The girls each took an arm and started to drag me up the stairs and out of the bar.
Bunny had a lot drinks…
We are walking to the car. The girls on each side of me. We had to stop at a light due to traffic. My feet are no longer numb. I’m not drinking anymore. So I feel my feet.
OH FUCK! PAIN.
I decide standing just isn’t cutting it anymore. I then decide that the lamppost would be a good place to pop a squat, so to speak. The girls start yelling, “No, no, no sitting! We are making it all the way to the car. You can sit there. You can take off your shoes there.” The magic words, take off your shoes. So they drag me up and we make it to the car.
The girls put me into the back, buckle me in, and tell me if we need to stop let them know. About half way thru the ride I tell them to pull over. But I’m okay, I just needed the car to stop for a second.
The next thing I remember is waking up on my girlfriends sofa. And they are asking me, “Do you want socks or no socks, sweetie?” Yep, because isn’t that how we all end the evening. Socks or no socks my beloved readers?
Tip: Always have a code word or phrase when drinking.