So this is a story about texting, tequila, and why the two should never be combined. Ever. It’s also a story about one of my favorite coworkers, Tiny, a gay bar, karaoke, and overshares. You know. The usual.
It started out innocently enough. Tiny was in from Toronto. His first trip to Pittsburgh. It is standard operating procedure to entertain your out-of-coworkers. It’s rude not to, actually. We started the night at a bar in Station Square, where we proceeded to hammer back four drinks in under an hour. We then hit Seviche for dinner (totally yummers) and pomegranate martinis. We popped into the Liberty Saloon, tossed back another drink, and hit Images.
This is where things start to go downhill. Tiny stands out in a crowd. He is very attractive, and immensely funny. He has an aura, and people are drawn to him. We weren’t all the way in the door when people started buying us drinks. And yes, there was karaoke.
We were having fuuu-uuu-uuun. I sang, Tiny sang, me and Tiny sang (Time of My Life, bitches) me and some strange guy sang Cabaret together. The DJ said he was done at ten. Tiny was having none of that. He tossed $100 for him to stay late. This meant everyone had to buy us shots. Of tequila. I think we all know what happens when I drink tequila.
So, about three shots of tequila later, I find myself making out with some of my new friends. It was funny, ha ha, let’s kiss a girl tomfoolery. Nothing major. Which must have been why I thought it was a good idea to text Mavrick that I had just made out with two hot gay men.
Let me repeat this. I sent a text to the guy that I am absolutely crazy about, to tell him that I am making out with hot people. This is something that can only be done while under the influence of tequila. And not only did I send above said text, I then went on to gush about how nothing like this has happened to me before! Well of course not. Because people that aren’t drunk on tequila typically don’t suck face with gay men and then tell the guy they like about it!
I had about three more shots after that. I thought I lost my glasses. I conducted an unscientific survey of the bar patrons to determine how many of them have had sex with women, I told two gentleman that they didn’t ‘look’ gay, I peed in a single bathroom while my new friend Cody held my hand and called his husband, I started calling people ‘Girlfriend’ and then I decided it was time to go home.
I hailed a cab, almost launching myself off the curb in the process, proceed to hop in the front seat, and drunkenly babble my head off to the poor, poor cabbie. I stumble into my house, certain that it was, like, three in the morning. Yeah. It was midnight.
I woke up this morning with a banging headache and an 8:30 conference call. Today was not a good day. Tiny, however, now that’s a different story. He met someone. He actually extended his stay in my fine hometown and is now spending the weekend. We will probably end up going out again. This time, I am steering clear of the tequila and putting my phone in a lock box. Mindbling 2.0 is obviously not far off from mindbling 1.0. Look out.