At a freckle to ten, I returned to the bar to see the bartender, Sean's new "bestie," pour Sean a shot of something brown and liable to remove varnish from wood. Sean hugged me—a little on the gropey side—and made some joke like, "Where've you been all my life?" a little too close to my face. I apologized profusely and asked him if he'd eaten; he had not. We sat at a table and he sat down a little too hard, almost going over backwards in his chair. He was two out of three sheets to the wind. The conversation started out awkward and glassy-eyed on his part. He informed me that the bartender had been giving him drinks on account of him being such a standup guy to wait for me. Normally, he slurred, the book he'd brought would have been enough company but after an hour of drinking by himself, his reading comprehension followed me onto the street. In a moment of too much honesty, he admitted to thinking about leaving but felt really awful trying to get my clothing purchases back to me because the hosiery would absolutely not fit him. In not so many words, he called me out on being rude. I really wanted to leave. The planet. If Your Partner Does These 12 Things, RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN
Instead, I started drinking a little faster and he slowed down. We probably had the best bland burgers I've ever had as we chatted past midnight. Earlier, as I walked back from my phone calls, I assumed I'd have to sleep with him if I ever wanted to see him again, but it was an incredibly pleasant date. And at the stroke of one AM, he got up and announced that it was probably time for him to call it a night.
As we walked out of the bar, he got my earlier text and said, "Looks like you'll be getting here any minute." Then he kissed me, booze breath and all. Six years later, we're married. Sometimes I'm really late, and occasionally, he drinks too much while he's waiting.