Liquid Courage

My mouth was full of all the “I love you’s” I had caught in my throat that Fall, that now there was no stopping my tongue. Straddling him in the backseat of his car, I leaned closer to his ear and whispered in a vodka filled breath , “I love you”.

He doesn’t say anything so I say it again. “I love you”.


Right now I’m trying to make all sorts of deals with Jesus because I know there’s no way I’ll ever be able to live this down.

I am mortified because

a) He’s not saying anything.

b) I said it not once but TWICE.




(There’s no playing this off like it’s a joke)

c) This is the guy I told my friends I was “just going to play with” because my brain was still trying to process what happened in (Days). Clearly my heart had already chosen its own path 🤦🏾‍♀️. And

d) I meant it.

I got off his lap – Obviously.

Onda Lengwa at this point but the key 🔑 to nipping an awkward humiliating mortifying situation in the bud is to not even acknowledge it. It’s all hazy from here but I think drunk me headed back into the club to take tequila shots before I let him take me home with my dignity still half intact.

Sober me wouldn’t know 🤷🏾‍♀️.

Nevertheless it’s all good now because:

a) We can laugh about this today

b) He just wasn’t about to take a drunk girl seriously

c) (Love)



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