It was the wine. Those damn fermented grapes should come with a warning label.
SLIPPERY WHEN WET. IF CONSUMED IN LARGE QUANTITIES, MISTAKES WILL BE MADE.
Mistakes may include:
- Berating bartenders
- Laughing uncontrollably while insisting that your mouth isn’t sticky and your lips your teeth aren’t stained red
- Making out with total strangers
- Making out with a not-so-total stranger but totally-off-limits person
- Possibly in a cab
- Possibly on the way back to his apartment
- Definitely where his fiancée also lives—she’s a lovely person. I really dig her sense of style; she’s even given me one of her sweaters and offered me a job.
- Feeling guilty in the morning for something that was at least 50% your fault
Okay, maybe not that whole section, but the first few at least. It happened last weekend actually. See Kieran—Kieran is arrogant, he’s an asshole and a womanizer. I know this because we’re co-workers. I hope Penelope knows this, because they’re engaged. Yes engaged, as in to be married.
Anyways! Kieran and Penelope are on their way to the legal kind of binding American marriage where someone could file for divorce on the grounds of infidelity and take everything their spouse ever worked for and win.
But Kieran’s not married yet. Married by association, a promise to promise to be faithful to that person forever, a layover on a connecting flight to marriage, which is a plane that goes down in flames far too often.
Kieran is also incredibly handsome, impeccably well-dressed—custom tailored suits, designer shoes, and thinks of me as his little sister—or so I thought. We have a great working relationship and he’s always bugging me to go out with him after work. I finally said yes. I figured he’s fun and easy going and buying all the wine.
Kieran’s a sommelier—drinking wine is his job.
Drinking wine is not my job. It’s my hobby and I’m an amateur. He’s drinking me under the table, against the wall on a street corner, on my ass and into a taxi. Luckily the night ended with him getting out of the cab at his apartment, whispering, “I’ll see you at work,” and kissed me on the cheek.
I woke up with a splitting headache to a text from him saying, “Have a great day.” Like wishing me a pleasant afternoon will negate the fact that what we very drunkenly but completely consciously did less than 24 hours ago was wrong and I can’t say anything because it may ruin their marriage and probably cost me my job.
But what do I know? I’m a rookie when it comes to infidelity. Kieran is a veteran. I learned a few things that night:
- Kieran cheats on Penelope.
- Kieran cheated on Penelope with me (once.)
- Kieran regularly cheats on Penelope with people who are not me (a lot).
- Kieran thinks that this incident has little to no affect on our working relationship and in fact makes us better friends.
- He asked me to be his dog’s godmother and wants to give me the keys to his apartment so I can watch it while they’re gone.
- He also asked me to bartend at their wedding—they as in he and his fiancée.
- Kieran has some nerve.
- Never be alone with Kieran again.
- Don’t be friends with someone who doesn’t understand what “engaged” means.
- Don’t pound wine unless running out on a check or using the alcohol to spit in someone’s face.
- Wine hangovers are the worst.
I saw Penelope a few days later. I played it cool—made witty banter like my life depended on it. I don’t think she knows. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at me like she suspected something had happened but was only holding her tongue so as not to make a scene. After she left, Kieran came up to me and said, “You’re a lot cooler than I thought you were.”
I dismissed myself, disgusted by his comment, what had happened a few days ago, and what I knew was sure as hell not going to happen again.
It’s not my fault, I blame the wine.