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I dismissed their opinions, and did what I pleased.
The night I spent with ex-just-friend Michael, a guy I had recently had sex with and then immediately regretted it, was supposed to make everything magically happily ever after.
He would nod at me, my drink would be ready to go by the time I walked up to the register from the door.
Then I heard he quit and didn’t think much of it, too busy with my life to notice.
After dropping him off at his apartment, I met up with my girlfriends. My roommate ended up taking my car keys and driving me home, as I lay passed out in the backseat.
We got drunk, and I analyzed poor Jeremy’s dating potential. Little did I know that years later, I’d be in a similar situation in New York.
When I lived in Los Angeles for a hot minute, a stunning blonde barista, Jeremy, from Starbucks asked me out. I immediately rolled my eyes when he told me he didn’t have a car. “Don’t piss me off or I’ll make you walk home.” I joked. Rightfully so, because he revealed on our first and only date that he had lost his leg in a car accident.
Drink was somehow involved, which led him into rehab, so at the time of our date he was also a recovering alcoholic. or the other teetotal celebrities he name-dropped, it was just no fun hanging out with a non-drinker.
Now it was a matter of finding who would become my insurance policy.