He drinks a whiskey drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
–Chumbawamba/Tubthumping
When did I turn into a person who is around people more often than I am not? Not that I am complaining, especially now, but I think it’s interesting that I suddenly have friends.
Or I suppose it’s more accurate to say that I am suddenly agreeing to be a participant in what bears a very close resemblance to a social life. More specifically, a social life that isn’t based on what I will euphemistically refer to as dating.
So after seeing friends Friday night and Saturday, then my folks on Sunday, I’m waiting for a couple of girlfriends to come over for dinner.
So what?
Well.
For one thing, I sure know a lot of people who like wine. And beer. And tequila. And hard cider. And whiskey. OK, that was uncomfortably like a Chumbawamba song. Not that there’s anything wrong with enjoying the boozes, but I like all of those things too. If I have multiple social outings in a week, that is likely to mean an enlarged liver and a trip to rehab before too much longer. Being alone is easier on my liver. I don’t like to drink alone.
And now I have Tubthumping stuck in my head.
Shit.
Several hours later…
The lovely Jan and Jane have departed. There were dahlias, the first of the season I’m told…a bottle of something red…olives and cheese…fried chicken…a discussion of what Brie tastes like (sex) and life and kids and troubles and laughing and how life is short so we should enjoy as much of it as we can.
As always when I’ve spent time with my friends, I’m struck with how wonderful, beautiful and wise they are. And how lucky I am to have them.
Not a great day at work, but it is ending in smiles. All is well.
Yes, I really think Brie tastes like sex. More specifically, like semen. That’s why people either love it or hate it.
