I’ve never been a drinker.
Even as a teenager.
Okay, yes, I consumed water, fruit juice and far, far too much soda pop.
I went to all of the parties.
And watched my friends drink to inebriation.
But I never had the urge to imbibe myself.
I didn’t have to.
Good friend that he was, Dennis did my drinking for me.
It was his idea.
I could still enjoy every aspect of the party.
Without liquor ever touching my lips.
A true friend.
Enough background . . .
We were at our high school reunion.
There was much talking and laughter and reminiscing.
After dinner, the party started.
Much as it had been in our teenage years, a bonfire had been lit and we all gathered around it clutching our drinks of choice.
Dennis sat down beside me. “I suppose I’ll still have to do your drinking for you?”
I smiled at him. “Oh, yes, Dennis, please.”
A deep sigh. “Fine.”
An hour later, I was walking toward the bar for yet another glass of ‘virgin Caesar’. (And yes, I know it’s just clamato juice. But with a celery stick in it. Yummm.)
I passed Dennis, seated at one of the tables and in the middle of a ‘Dennis’ story.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “How am I doing?” I asked.
He looked at me. “Oh, you’re done,” he said. “You’ve had enough. I cut you off half an hour ago! You just can’t hold your liquor like you used to.”
They do so much for us.