Day 12 Jimmy Buffett Margaritaville

The first date I ever had with my husband didn't go as planned. To begin with, it wasn't a date. He just wanted someone to have a meal with, and I agreed to go. After I hung up the phone, I brought in the mail. I received a rejection letter from the graduate school I applied to. I was angry. Simmons had disregarded me, blown off an interview I had confirmed with them several times, at one point from a phone booth in Oregon. The school called my mother after I had already left for the appointment, and snarled at her when she told them I had left already. I didn't drive then, and had to make multiple connections to get there. I waited outside the office belonging to my interviewer, until someone found me and told me about the faculty meeting that superseded my need to actually keep an appointment I made months before. I was interviewed by a woman who obviously didn't care about me or my interview. Now, I was holding a rejection letter.

I was pissed. My husband collected me and we went to a Mexican restaurant called The Border Cafe. My husband began to ask me if I wanted a drink, and hadn't finished the sentence before I ordered a Margarita. It was the first Margarita I'd ever had, and it tasted good. I ordered another. My husband sat there, startled, watching me pour of these into my stomach. I don't drink much. One wine cooler was pretty much my limit. Unsurprisingly, I became drunk. I rarely overindulge, but that one evening, I wanted something to drink.

We were remembering the date tonight,( it was epic) and I realized that I had today's entry.