Post-drinks at Churchill’s, a friend and I end up back at my place. I ask if he wants a cocktail. His initial affirmative response quickly inverts to an, "I’ll just have water," after a viewing of my potential offerings. (Including an entire case of white wine in my fridge - a vestige of a recent-ish charity event. I don’t really drink vino of a non-red nature, and the greatest amount of available storage space in my apartment lies inside my refrigerator. His face is judging. Cricket. Cricket.)
I pour his requested water slowly, hoping he’ll tire of this unnecessarily lengthy endeavor and wander out into the other room. He does. Thank God for predictability! At which point I proceed to mix up a vodka coconut water for myself. (For some reason, I think this will lessen my awkwardness. One guess on whether or not that works.)
I hand him his refreshing, non-alcoholic beverage. "Thanks. What are you drinking?"
"Coconut water." Yup. I don’t want to go the whole, "Don’t mind me; I’m just getting myself liquored up over here" route, so I lie. I am overly open slash honest by nature, so lying never works out well for me. Like it doesn’t here.
"Can I try it?"
Right. Yup. Of course. In my head, I’m thinking there is no way he will be able to taste the vodka in one little sip.
…
"Did you put vodka in here?"
Welp. Guess I was wrong on that one.
At this point, I could easily employ the wide-eyes-sheepish-smile-I-got-caught-acting-like-an-idiot look - with a tiny nod attached - that I have spent years perfecting…but no. No. I shake my head no.
"Really? It kind of tastes like there’s vodka in here." Why can’t he just drop it already? Sigh. Too late to back out now. In typical Stacie form, I prematurely fumble out a line of reasoning that is going to lead nowhere normal.
"I think there was earlier." I’m attempting to insinuate that this was the glass I had my pre-bar cocktail in, but I ramble nonsensically - especially once I remember he was right there when I pulled the glasses out of the cupboard. Basically, the entirely uncomfortable conversation ends with a faltering, "I haven’t washed my dishes in awhile."
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…
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That is disgusting.
Just for the record, the only dishes in my sink were from that day, and all of the dishes in my cupboards are clean, thanks.
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Meow.