Having just revealed to him and myself that I’m kinda a dick, it takes me a moment to process the accidental subtext and implications of my own words. So when Alex lobs back a base, “We’re not strangers, Morgan,” it feels like a small betrayal bereft of a segue.
She was a realistic drunk. Besides, making desperate promises to yourself about how your drinking isn’t going to destroy your life is cliche.
There is nothing more cliche than an alcoholic infatuated with her bartender.
This was in a time when bars were still properly smoke-filled and cigarettes came cheap with the pull of a knob, dispensed by a well-worn machine leftover from an era where one could still smoke on airplanes.
Horrid adventure, terrible drama / Mosquitoes and quicksand en-route to nirvana
I felt commemorated when I was able to get up in front of 80 strangers and share my story and feel their love, support and appreciation for me even though we'd never met before.