Oops, I Did a Bad Thing

So, you know how they say tequila makes your clothes fall off? Turns out, they’re not wrong. And apparently, it also makes your moral compass take a vacation to Thailand.

Picture this: My boyfriend “Tom” is out of town, probably doing something noble like saving orphaned puppies or whatever. Meanwhile, I’m at home, bored out of my mind, already had finished binging ‘Gossip Girl’ on Netflix, when his best friend “Jake” swings by to drop off Tom’s stuff. That plan would have been nice to know before Tom left.

Jake has always hung around. He was practically our third wheel for most of our relationship. I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Tom. He was always there are birthday parties, any sporting events we went to, and most of our big milestones in life. Somewhere along the line, our friendly banter turned into stolen glances and “accidental” touches.

Now me, being alone on a weekend night, decides It’s a great idea to invite him to stay for a bit (Don’t look at me like that). One thing leads to another, and suddenly we’re six tequila shots (and two vodka redbulls) deep, playing drinking games, sitting a little bit closer together than should have been allowed, and making terrible life choices.

Now, I’m not saying it’s the tequila’s fault. But I’m also not not saying that. Let’s just say if José Cuervo were a person, I’d be filing a lawsuit for emotional distress and destruction of relationship property. Seriously, what do they put in that stuff?

The next morning, I woke up with a hangover that could kill a small horse, and the realization that I’m officially the worst girlfriend since… well, ever. Move over, Eve from the Garden of Eden, there’s a new screw-up in town.

I’d spent the last week trying to act normal around Tom, but every time he says “I love you,” I hear the voice of that kid from The Sixth Sense whispering, “I see dead relationships.” I’m pretty sure my eye has developed a permanent twitch.

Jake and I made a pact of silence, like we’re in some kind of trashy soap opera. We can barely look at each other without turning into human tomatoes. I’m half expecting dramatic music to start playing every time we’re in the same room.

So here I am, trying to figure out how to fix this mess. Should I confess? Should I take this secret to my grave? Should I fake my own death and start a new life as a llama farmer in Peru? (That last one is looking pretty good right now.)

Look, I know I’m a grade-A jerk. A walking disaster. The human equivalent of stepping on a Lego. But hey, at least I make for a good cautionary tale, right? Let my epic fail be a lesson to you all: Tequila is not your friend, and neither are your boyfriend’s friends. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be googling “how to build a time machine” and “quickest route to Peru.”​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

This happened to me 8 years ago. I was in my early 20’s and still trying to navigate life as an “adult”. I have learned a lot since then. One thing being: don’t become official with your boyfriend until you’ve met all of his friends!

Tom is you see this, I’m sorry! I never came clean and it has weighed on me every day since. But look on the bright side Tom, you are now married with 2 beautiful daughters. You can’t be too mad at me.

Also, Jake if YOU see this, how did you get home that night?