And in the time it took for me to get myself a single drink, one of the girls had begun making out with someone in a corner, another was sobbing at a table, and Amy had some guy nibbling on her candy necklace. Not my circus, I told myself, taking a sip of my martini. Not my monkeys.
I made a face. This was a terrible martini. Of course, when I still drank here, I didn’t drink martinis.
Screw it, I thought, drinking the rest in one long gulp. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
I turned around and ordered two shots of J?germeister. Never a good idea, but maybe being drunk was the way to survive this night. The bartender poured the shots and slid them to me. I took both over to Amy. Half of her candy necklace was missing as she giggled with the guy who had eaten it. Maybe Megan was right and she’s not going to make it to the aisle.
“Come on Ames, it’s shot time,” I said, elbowing past the candy fiend.
“You take shots?”
I rolled my eyes. “Since you were in the third grade. Come on. I’m doing one with you.”
She took the shot glass, clinked glasses with mine, and threw the drink down her throat. “Ugh! What is that?”
I looked at her like she was an alien. “J?ger.”
“People still drink that?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes. That’s what we always did shots of.”
She pouted slightly. “I need some Fireball to get that taste out of my mouth!” As if by magic, two other bridesmaids appeared with shot glasses of the cinnamon liquor she had requested.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to avoid choking the bride. While it may be rude to look at your phone while you’re out, it’s still more polite than publicly killing your sister. It was a text from Alex. How goes it?
Sweet baby Jesus, I wrote back. Save me from these children who don’t even know what J?ger is.
So teach them! Isn’t that your job in this wedding?
I tried. Amy demanded a shot of Fireball immediately after. Did that even exist when we were young?
I think we drank Goldschlager to feel fancy when we wanted something with cinnamon in it back in our day.
I have never felt this old in my life.
Lol. You’re what? 31?
32.
Ahh, I see, Alex replied. You’re ancient. With a granny emoji.
I laughed out loud, then jumped as someone sidled up next to me. “What’s so funny, bridesmaid?” the sidler asked. “Texting your boyfriend?”
I turned to size him up. Way too young for me, of course, but cute. And there was no harm in flirting a little. “No. No boyfriend. Just a friend who agrees it’s ridiculous to wear a condom belt when your sister gets married.”
He nodded at Amy’s veil. “That’s your sister?”
“Yup.”
“Nice. I’m Kevin.”
“Lily.”
“Can I buy you a drink, Lily?” I agreed and he ordered another terrible martini for me and a Bud Light for himself. The drinks came and he paid cash, then clinked his glass against mine. “Cheers.”
I scanned the room quickly. Crying girl was dancing with some guy, making-out girl was still making out, and Amy was laughing with a bunch of her friends, drinking their drinks through penis straws. Everything was under control. I could relax. “So Kevin,” I mused. “What do you do?”
“I’m an intern on Capitol Hill,” he said confidently. This was clearly a line that got him girls. “Still deciding if I want to go the lobbyist route or eventually run for office myself. What about you?”
“PR at the Foundation for Scientific Technology.”
“That’s cool. How long have you been there?”
I knew the truth about my age would shock him, but I did not give the tiniest of rat’s asses what this kid thought. “Ten years. I started straight out of college.”
“Ten years?” he repeated. “I can’t imagine doing anything for ten years.” He leaned in closer. “But that’s what I like about you older women. You know what you want. I always learn a thing or two when I sleep with someone so much older.”
I reeled like he had slapped me. “Have fun with that,” I said and started to walk away.
“Baby, don’t go,” he said, grabbing my arm.
I turned around and got right in his face. “Fine, you want to learn something from an older woman? First lesson: don’t call a woman old. Second lesson: don’t assume you’re sleeping with anyone. And third lesson: don’t ever touch me.” His eyes widened and he dropped my arm. I stormed off, leaving my drink on the bar, and only realized as I got to the doorway how much more effective it would have been if I had thrown it in his face. You don’t get enough opportunities to do that in real life, so you should always take them when they come.