Awkward Moments in My Social History, No. 3,412

Last night, The BFF let me know her friend, The Birthday Girl, was celebrating her 21st. Upon meeting, The Birthday Girl and I realize we met the other week, but I was bizaked and passed out on the couch before heading directly home from dinner. That got her real happy to see me, and she gives me this huge hug and practically holds my hand on the follow through. Intriguing, but there was a boyfriend involved, so despite further buildup, that angle proves anticlimactic (though whenever next time happens, things could get quite interesting).

However, while traveling the block to our next bar-hopping pit stop, The Birthday Girl gushes that she knows so much about me because The BFF talks about me all the time. Of course, she follows this up by asking how often The BFF talks about her. After a silent split-second of panic because the correct answer was, "Actually, never," I play the white lie game and say, "Your name comes up every so often."

She cracks back with, "Only to say I'm a bitch, right?" And I take the bait: "Yeah, but that was only twice ..." We both laugh, and everything is crackerjacks and candy canes. It's even better after three super-cheap shots (five for TBG) at the Bullet.

Other highlights included The Birthday Girl saying that she won't fuck any guy who won't hold her hand - 30 minutes before complementing my hand-holding skills (it's a gift) - and getting to play pool with The Succubus' French-speaking Tahitian cousin. This life.