Oh, god. I was so wrong about how my night would unfold. I think I’m still drunk.
It was 4:20 pm when I decided to just randomly text GayBoy. Our exchange went like this:
“We should get drunk this weekend.”
“Should we? What do you suggest?”
“I hear alcohol works.”
“People do say that. What type?”
“I’m cooking fish later, you want some? So, big btl wine?”
“I got cider and tequila at home?
“That sounds like trouble. So, you want fish then? If so, bring a baguette.”
So, he brought the baguette, a bocce ball set, a mickey of good tequila, and a six-pack of cider.
“I can’t drink tequila straight!” I argued. “We need to mix it with something.” He dismissed this as the whining of an ignorant child, but provided orange juice in case I really “want(ed) to be a sissy”.
Unbeknownst to me, it turns out that not only can I do the salt-lick/shot/suck-on-lime tequila drinking straight, but I can do it very… very… very well. Like, none of his hissing and teeth-grinding after sucking back a shot. More like, “Oh, that hit the spot. Another?” Continue reading