My entire freshman year of college, I dated a guy I had met in my first week on campus. (I know, I know – way to shop around.) Without going into too much detail, I’ll say that it probably definitely wasn’t the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in, but the end of it did teach me one very important life lesson: Jose Cuervo does NOT cure break-ups.
During my sophomore year, he went abroad, and we made the decision to have an open relationship (red flag!) with the intention of being together once he got back. That plan was, however, canned when I received a call from him in October saying (45 minutes into the conversation during which I was SO happy to talk to him), “By the way, I started seeing someone else. We [you and I] won’t be together when I get back.”
Just stick the knife in and turn a little more.
That conversation took place on a Wednesday night and I spent the better part of the next day curled up on my couch, watching “Friends.” My roommates and other girlfriends were insanely supportive and immediately followed through on the first to steps of “what to do after a break-up” – they brought baked goodies and trash talked the Ex. I had cookies, brownies, ice cream, and some delicious red velvet cupcakes that Cla had made. And the food coma sustained me until it was time for the alcohol step of “what to do”. But that was, I believe, my fatal mistake.
You see, my favorite shot is tequila. Even to this day. And I decided, with the urging of another friend whose frat we were going to, that 10 Rounds With Jose Cuervo would make all my pain go away. I was so young and foolish. (Or stupid. Stupid’s probably a better word for it.)
I did the ten rounds (to the song, no less). And more. And still made it to the house. (That part’s a little fuzzy, though.) I knew, however, shortly after arriving there, that things were not looking good. And so I rushed, with the support of several friends, to the cleanest possible bathroom in a frat house – the one on the third floor, farthest away from the basement. As the girls held my hair back, I emptied my stomach, and we all blamed the Ex for my alcohol consumption, I pointed to the thing that I could see most clearly, even through my tequila haze.
“Oh look, Cla – there’s your cupcake.”
Red velvet really hasn’t been appetizing since.