Tequila is not my friend. Tequila is my mortal enemy. This is a lesson I had to learn the hard way. I’m fairly certain this is the way everyone learns that tequila is out to hurt them. I’ve never heard of someone deciding “Nah, I think I’ll avoid tequila because I’ve heard she’s bad news.” No, we all instead think “Tequila? No night has ever gone wrong because of tequila! Pour me the bottle, bartender!” And then we wake up on a bathroom floor that does not belong to us with a pillow next to us and a glass of water. But I’ll get back to that in a bit.

Years ago, I went on a pretty spectacular first date with a woman named Ava. Or at least it was spectacular enough to earn me the honor of a second date with Ava. We had met on OkCupid. (I really shouldn’t even have to continue this story. I led with tequila and have now mentioned OkCupid, you can probably imagine it from here.) Because of both of our schedules the only day that worked to get together for the next couple weeks happened to be my birthday. On which I was having a party with friends.

Now you might think to yourself, “Jay, is it really a wise idea to bring a woman you have only had one date with to a party with a bunch of your friends as a second date?” To which I would say “No, person-reading-this-blog, no, it is not wise. But have you read any of my previous posts? Does it look like I make smart choices!?”

Ava decided this was a swell idea. She showed up about an hour into the party. The first half of the night was great. We laughed and flirted and she seemed to get along easily with my friends. And then my friend pulled out a bottle of El Mayor Tequila. This is where the night took a turn. At first it was a fun turn (as it always is, tequila’s way of enticing you closer for more) filled with dancing and deep guttural laughs. Then, the party moved to a bar—which I’m sure I do not need to mention was totally unnecessary. The party should have faded out, everyone going their separate ways.

But then I wouldn’t have this story, so, onward to the bar we went. Let me be honest with you. I remember leaving the party. I remember the ride to the bar. I remember walking into the bar. I do not remember actually being at the bar. However, there are photos of me at the bar, hugging everyone. Which is odd, considering that I do not like to touch or be touched by people, except family and select few close friends.

I also do not remember leaving the bar. In fact, the next thing I remember is waking up confused as I took in my foreign surroundings. There was white tile floor that my face was stuck to, a bathtub, a sink, and a toilet, none of which I recognized. I, mean I know that I was in a bathroom. I was in a bathroom that I did not recognize. There was a pillow next to me, that I think I had been spooning. And there was a glass of water that the guardian angel of poor decisions must have left for me. Water never tasted so good. “AVA!” I whisper-yelled. Oh my god, Ava. I had been on a date with Ava during my birthday night of debaucheries. Where was she? Wait, where was I? I stood up. Which was a mistake. The room began to spin like a tornado had picked it up and started transporting me to Oz. I slammed my hand on the wall to brace myself. I stepped a wobbly foot forward towards the door, took a deep breath and opened it. I zombie walked my way into the living room of this strange house. There, on the couch was Ava. She stayed! YAY!

I poked her, but like an apologetic and sheepishly embarrassed poke. She opened her eyes, “You’re alive!” she said, honestly sounding relieved.

“Uhh, yeah, barely. Umm, so do you want to umm, go back to my place for breakfast and probably several bagillion apologies?” I asked.

“Sure,” she laughed.

We got up, and tiptoed out of what I suddenly remembered was my friend’s new house. I also realized why Ava was likely still here. And it had nothing to do with my irresistible charm. She had driven my car here, and thus was effectively stranded. I was a grade-A asshole. I drove her back to her car, like the gentleman I am. And we met back at my place for some coffee and food. She filled me in on the night.

After my friends and I finished the bottle of tequila we all went to the bar where we consumed more tequila and tequila based drinks. Then we decided a game night would be super fun! And we all (Ava, too) headed to my friend’s house. Turns out, I did not make it to any of the games. I went to the bathroom and never came out. Ava brought me a pillow and the water. As it were, she had a great time playing games with my friends while I was snoozing on a bathroom floor.

I was a shade of red that I have only seen on fire trucks. I apologized over and over again. I asked if I could somehow make it up with a way better redo date, which I promised tequila would not be invited to. By some miracle she agreed. And I broke up with tequila, for good. And Ava broke up with me for good, a few months later. Which honestly, is probably more time than I deserved after that disastrous second date.

What did we learn, kids? Don’t get drunk on a second date (or probably any date). Don’t pass out on bathroom floors on second date (or probably any date). Don’t have your date be your designated driver, but also if you are going to make the mistake of getting drunk on a date, have a designated driver or a number for a cab. Don’t drink tequila by the bottle. It will not end well.

So, would you have given me a second chance? Vote yes or no in the comments.

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