I worked my arse off to plan the office holiday party. Six weeks of invite lists, elusive venue managers, plans that fell through, strings that got pulled, deciding sit-down dinner or all-night appetizers, stylish desserts... or...or...are these people gonna be happy?? I stress about throwing a good party. I really like a good party.
So it happened that after weeks of planning--and working--my ass off, the night of the party I drank off the rest of what was left of it.
This is a rare--rare--occurrence.
Let me introduce a rarer occurrence: the lip hug. Playing steadfast (er, drunk) ear to the drunk and emotional wife of my colleague, I was rapt audience to Erica as she cried and talked. We bonded. We were like, tight. Sisters by this point.
Fast forward to the car ride home in a black stretch SUV. There were three of us couples, including Erica and her husband, another colleague and wife, and Phil, my date. Music blared and the chatting never ceased. We were there for each other, Erica and me. We had each other's backs. And then we reached Erica and her husband's house, the first stop; and in the goodbye, the kiss-and-hug Erica and I meant to exchange, turned into a k-i-s-s and quick hug. It was like a five-second exchange. Right there between my date and my colleague, the loud music and Erica's man.
In my state, I was vaguely aware of this extended kiss goodbye. It was nothing goopy; imagine instead a long, joyous squeeze of a hug where you even squeal a little, but this hug took place between our lips! When the vagueness finally cleared and my brain registered that our lips were still touching, I gave her a quick squeeze and cheerfully hugged her husband goodbye. Nothing to see here people! Nothing strange at all about that extended goodbye where time slowed down and everybody stopped talking to wonder at it.
Then I promptly forgot about it.
Until the next morning, as the sun filtered into my room, along with images from a pickled night before, and bam, the memory of...the lip hug goodbye.
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