I don’t get hangovers. It doesn’t matter how drunk I get; I sleep it off and by the time I wake up I feel just fine. Char gets hangovers. She doesn’t drink often so when she does she gets drunk easily and she pays for it the next day. Because she doesn’t enjoy this, she’s usually my designated driver and takes the wheel even if I’ve had only one beer. It doesn’t matter to her if I had the beer three hours before with a meal. I am not getting behind the wheel after a drink, and I’m fine with this.

Since she can’t drive right now she had the option to have a drink or two tonight. We met Dack and Theresa for dinner and then went to shoot some pool; there was a margarita with dinner, and then one when we got to the bar where we usually go for a few games of 8-ball and 9-ball. While she humiliated Dack at 9-ball she decided that tonight she would forgo any pain meds and have another drink.

She’s a big girl and knows how she’ll feel the next day, so I didn’t say anything. My main consideration was that she didn’t seem to be in pain and she was having a good time. She killed us all in a few more games and then Dack and Theresa had to leave; a few more games between us and one more margarita, and we were ready to go home.

Yeah, fifteen years ago we probably would have closed the bar down. But we were home by ten o’clock and sat down on the sofa to watch a little TV before going to bed. She managed to remain upright for about 5 minutes, then stretched out with her head in my lap, and even manage another 5 minutes before mutating into Mz. Horny Hands.

Hell, there were no kids around and there wasn’t going to be any kids for at least 12 more hours, she could do whatever the hell she wanted. I was worried she might roll off the sofa and onto the floor, which would have caused immeasurable pain, but she was determined to get busy in the living room, so I suggested we ease off the sofa and onto the floor, and she heartily agreed.

She had to get up before I could. She lifted up on an elbow, started to swing her legs over the side, and threw up into my lap.

Who says romance is dead?