So, I’m tipsy. On a Tuesday. (Again.)

I was not your typical, run-of-the-mill college student in that I reserved drinking only for Friday and Saturday nights after 8pm. (When I say this, I’m not counting how throughout senior year I liked to mix copious amounts of amaretto into my hot chocolate whenever studying was getting a little… dull.) Anyway, after I graduated, I did a funny thing. I started drinking on odd weeknights.

Not regularly, of course — I’m no alcoholic — but whenever a guy asks me out to drinks during the week it’s usually on a Monday or Tuesday. (This has happened a total of three times.) Tonight, as you might have surmised, is one of those three times, and since my buzz has not yet worn off from this evening, I will tell you about it. (My brain is like no, don’t write a blog; go to bed, you’ve had alcohol and you have to be at work in 8 hours. Oh well. Too late to stop now, really. I’m already two paragraphs in.)

I went out with this one guy once right before I left for Christmas. We got drinks at the classy bar across from my apartment, which was super convenient for me since I don’t own a car. At the end of the night when we parted ways. He had my phone number and said we should go out again; I agreed. He called me last week to see if I wanted to go out again. I did, but I rescheduled twice because last week I felt like absolute ass. The plan was to go out tonight for drinks, but I hadn’t heard anything from him since last Thursday, so it wasn’t exactly high on my radar. I assumed he had forgotten and didn’t feel like making a big deal out of it. So what did I do?

I decided to make homemade tomato soup. Why or how on earth I came to that decision, I still don’t know. It was an hour before we had planned to go out, and since I hadn’t heard from him, I figured: why not go on a kitchen adventure. I don’t do this often. I have a kitchen the size of a galley on a cruise ship, and my lack of car means I don’t go grocery shopping as often as I should. But my mother made me this lovely cookbook with my favorite recipes for Christmas, and there was this simple-ish looking recipe for tomato soup for which I miraculously had all the ingredients just lying around. Y’know. Whole canned tomatoes, tomato paste, an onion, broth. (Side note: I usually have like 5 different cans of tomato-y things lying around at all times, just in case the apocalypse comes and I really need tomatoes.)

So I just get started with making this soup, but I’m at the point where I can’t turn back because I’ve already chopped the onion, and he texts me. Whoops. So for the next hour, I scramble around making this soup which turns out to be not that awesome (I mean, it was alright, but nothing special — I had instant tomato soup can in my pantry, rendering this whole venture pretty ridiculous) and then I went on this date, which was really fun.

I don’t believe I have anything else to say. This was rather anticlimactic.