It’s Friday at 5:01, heading to happy hour like the Booze Hound I am. However, this pup won’t be aggressively howling at women much younger than me per usual. Reason being, I am grabbing drinks with one of my friends who is vastly more accomplished, career-driven and essentially all around better person. To preface, let’s not forget my friend and I had to work diligently just to get this on his calendar.  Adult things. This friend of mine differs from me in almost every aspect. For starters, he’s engaged, owns his own house and I don’t want to assume but I imagine his penis is bigger than mine.

Anyways, we hit happy hour. Drink some drinks, catch some laughs, share some old college stories and talk about how much more successful he is than me. Then, Happy hour takes a turn. I spot another, yet more successful friend from the past. He turns this happy hour of mine into a threesome. Hell, The more the merrier.  Things are going prominent, majority of the convo is still centered on the vast decorated accomplishments these two esteemed gents have received. Every now and again, the conversation shifts back to the random debauchery they see on my social media.

6:00pm hits and another friend shows up with his girlfriend clinging to his arm. Yes, he is also more successful than me in case you were wondering. As they sit down, I become blinded by this monstrous blaze. An engagement ring. Then it hits me like a bag of dicks, they just got engaged last week. It then dawns on me that everyone at this table just became recently engaged. What the hell did I just get myself into.  Swiftly and surely, the conversations of drunken collegiate days take a turn to the brides and grooms to be. Here I am, dead in the middle of a philosophical conversation about weddings. From Budget and chairs, to invite lists, no wedding leaf was unturned

Quietly, listening to the logistics of these weddings while my sweat glands profusely salivate at an alarming rate, I hear my name addressed. “What do you think?” What do I THINK? What do I think!? I think you’re all fuggin nuts! Yeah, sitting here planning out your weddings at happy hour meanwhile I’m going home alone in about 45 minutes using my tears as lubricant. Anyways, all I muttered was “Can the venue be inside? A lot of people sweat, asking for a friend.”

Third wheeling the middle of a hard-core wedding planning session.  Here’s to growing up and being forever cemented into Sexless in Seattle.