It was first date night last evening. We met for drinks, for her a gin & tonic, for me a diet coke. A decade back I decided alcohol might mask the efficacy of my psych meds and I’d worked very diligently to know what my meds were doing day to day. Hence, diet coke for me when meeting for drinks.
So be it told, for this lass, that I wouldn’t order an alcohol-based libation in front of her means I’m hiding alcoholism. She can’t trust a man who won’t admit to alcoholism.
I told her I also wouldn’t order slaves in front of people and she just missed out on a romantic weekend at my cotton plantation. And that I wouldn’t order harpoons in front of people so nix the Mediterranean cruise on my whaling yacht. And that I wouldn’t order Viagra in front of people because I don’t have my Algebra 2 textbook to hold low and in front of me walking between classes … so I’ll leave the punchline here (about what she’s missing out on) for you to deduce.
No love connection last evening. Drats.