At a house party, it is someone's idea to play "Never Have I Ever." This idea does not seem fun to me because there isn't anything I haven't done. Also, I can never remember if you are supposed to put your finger down when you have done it or when you haven't done it.
After the first five never-done-its, Tall Blonde Alcoholic is already out of the game. Everyone lies back and sighs, well that was fun. And then, wait a minute, that means he's had a threesome. Everyone assumes he's done it with two girls or maybe one other guy and a girl. But I know better.
Tall Blonde Alcoholic looks at me. I look at him, and then look away. Like they do in the movies or fragrance commercials. It doesn't look as good when I do it, but the effect is the same.
Seconds later, I receive the first of many texts, "Are you mad."
Why would I be mad? I have no reason to be mad. He did it before he met me. My response: "No." But I am mad, obviously. Because I am possessive and I like to think he has never thought about, wanted, fucked, or fuck+1ed anybody but me. (Keep in mind this is before we officially became boyfriends and I hadn't locked him in a cage under my bed yet.)
From that point, he unravels. The sweet tea vodka does not help. I drag him outside, where he begins crying.
"Everyone inside is judging me."
"No they're not."
"You hate me."
"No I don't."
"Everyone in the entire world hates us just because we're gay."
"Speak for yourself."
He continues to sob. I have a crier on my hands. He says he has nobody. I tell him he has me, which is something I've heard from a movie or fragrance commercial once. He says, "I love you so much."
I don't know how to respond to this because he is drunk and he's having an emotional breakdown so clearly he doesn't really mean it.
So I don't say anything back. And I suggest we go back inside. And I kinda wanna have a threesome now. And also eat a brownie.