Open Bars Are Dangerous

The Young Dutchman continues to be responsible for the destruction of my liver...

I had sworn to myself that I was going to my running club this evening, but after the Young Dutchman absolutely insisted that we go to a party at the Kensington Roof Gardens this evening, I was too easily persuaded to run off early and join him at the club.

Got there, and found that the free wine and canapés were flowing, and although the Young Dutchman was bouncing around the room, networking like a puppy chasing a ball, I had the good company of our good friend David, who made sure I was never without a drink in my hand (first bad move of the evening!)

Despite that we had come to this party with the intention of just having the free food and drink, we found ourselves talking to the VP of the company, and with several of their key designers, basically meaning that we were among the few people who did the kind of appropriate networking that we were supposed to at a party like this.

Just as I was getting tired (it was a Tuesday night, after all) and thinking that we should wrap this up and head home, the Young Dutchman pulled out invitations to yet ANOTHER private party, at a different club nearby, also with an open bar. So I got dragged along to that one, where there was no food to be found (second bad move of the evening), but funky alcoholic jello and lots and lots and lots of free wine. Spent more time chatting with David, trying to avoid being chatted up by weird guys, until finally the group seemed to move (to be honest, my memory is totally fuzzy at this point), and given that we were down the street from my house, I took advantage of the opportunity to walk home!

The next morning I was VERY grateful that I can work from home. There was no chance I was making it to the office... I couldn't believe it then when that afternoon he asked me, "So what are you doing tonight?" Yes, he wanted to take me to yet another party. I flat-out refused of course, not only because I had other plans, but because I thought I might die going to yet another open-bar party. It's fun hanging out with him, but he's like a hyper puppy-dog, and I can't keep up. Some days I think that the boy needs a girlfriend, because he's using me as a substitute to take out all of the time, and it's killing me!