Ok, now I'm walking the line

So Saturday night, a bunch of us went out to TGI Friday's after work. With Sober October in mind, Irish & I were planning on having one drink, then watching everyone else get trashed. Then while at work, I decided I didn't really want to go after all - he'd met some girl a few days before, and they'd been hanging out that morning and he'd invited her to meet him at the restaurant, and I didn't want him to feel responsible for me if he would rather be with her.

"Don't be ridiculous," he told me. "You're much more important to me than she is, and if she can't handle me giving you a ride home at the end of the night, then fuck her."

So I decided to go. And somewhere in there, we also decided to drink. A lot.

After three Car Bombs, a shot of Tuaca, and a beer (I cut myself off and gave my beer to another member of my Top 5, whose current facial hair makes him look like the Princess Bride's Westley), Irish and I decided it was far too cold to walk back to my apartment, and decided to sit in his car to sober up instead.

My world was spinning, so he recommended I focus at a stationary point in the distance, which I did. He asked if I was ok.

"Physically? Yeah, I'm fine."

"And emotionally?"

"I'm fine."

"No, what's wrong? Just say it, Elle. Say what you don't want to say."

And you'll have to bear with me now, because although I remember the gist of the conversation, I don't remember many details. What I do remember is that I claimed to have no idea what he was talking about, and somehow made him say it first. I also remember the following details:

Him: Turn around and look at me.

Me: I can't; your face is too close up and I can't focus on it.

Him: Just turn around. The back of your head isn't nearly as pretty as the front of it.

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Me: So all this drama with these other girls - [coworker], [crazy non-roommate], this new girl... Is it just to see how I'll react?

Him: No.

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Him: I know you're not [fiancée]. Certain things about you remind me of her, but you're a totally different person.

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Me: I have brothers who are older than you!

Him: So? What's wrong with dating younger guys?

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Him: I hate that I look just like my dad.

Me: Why? There are less attractive people you could've looked like.

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Him: Have I thought about what it would be like to kiss you? ...Yes. Would I ever do it? No.

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Him: So did you hear everything you wanted to hear?

Me: I guess so... Did you hear everything you wanted to hear?

Him: Yes.

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Most of this conversation took place while lying in the reclined seats of his car (after the world stopped spinning), holding hands, or him brushing the hair off my forehead, or me putting my hand on his cheek. He also kissed my cheek when we finally said goodnight (4 a.m.), which was a first, though I've kissed his a few times now, never to have it mentioned after that first night at Barbie's bachelorette party.

I'm pretty sure the bottom line was, "I like you, you like me, we're never going to act on it, let's keep being great friends." We talked a little on Sunday and vowed to have the conversation again while sober, to make sure everything was clear. Then the apocalypse came to San Diego, and survival drama became more immediate than personal drama.

Irish & I hung out last night, and our conversation only turned to Saturday's conversation so we could both claim we didn't remember any of it. He dropped me off at my hotel, took the elevator with me, then hugged me goodbye. We pulled away and sort of looked at each other.

"Go home," he said.

Without missing a beat, I answered, "You and I both know what we talked about on Saturday," then turned on my heels and started walking down the hall.

"That's not fair!" he called after me.

I heard the elevator ding. I turned back, but couldn't see him. "Yes it is," I said, not nearly loud enough for him to hear.