"No, man. She's on Lent," he said.
The guy with the shot of tequila in his hand looked at me with a look of horror, puzzlement, and drunkenness. Apparently I was "on" Lent. Like... "on my period." Frankly I think stating the latter would have horrified the guy less than saying I'd voluntarily given up alcohol for 40 days (actually--with Sundays, it's like 46 days).
Not drinking has been an adjustment, especially in social settings. Especially in awkward social settings. Most especially on first dates like last night.
In retrospect, I never should have agreed to go to the bar and meet up with his friends. We'd had a nice dinner and for a first date, it was actually pretty relaxed even without the customary glass of wine. But, I wish it had ended there instead of at the crowded bar with everyone else in a drunken stupor and me completely sober. It wasn't just that though--he'd told me we were going to the Carlyle, so I'd gotten dressed up in a cute LBD and high heets to boot. It wasn't exactly bar hoppin' attire.
I sucked down my Coca-Cola, danced for awhile, watched the Georgetown game, but by about midnight, my feet were aching and I was ready to go home. Even though he'd driven me, I offered to take a cab home. I could tell he wanted to stay, and he didn't insist on driving me home, which was probably a good thing because he'd been drinking quite a bit. No cash on hand, I was going to look for an ATM when he handed me a $20, which I almost refused but decided to take.
I hopped in the cab, he said he'd call me, and off I went. A few minutes after I got home, he texted to see if I'd gotten home ok. "Yep, thanks! Enjoy the rest of your night."
He texted back, "Can I enjoy it with you? :-)" But I'd already fallen asleep, fortunately.