Vodka. We met back in 1980…ish.
You were hanging out with some orange juice. That was an abusive relationship. Half a dozen drunk bridesmaids later…I broke up with you.
A year or so later, you showed up with cream and Kaluha.
Damn you and your promises.
We took the nightclubs by storm. No woman was out of our league. We were witty, (at least I think we were)
White Russians were apparently an ice breaker.
We danced our asses off, stayed late enough for last call…and 99% of the time…went home alone.
You’ve gone by other names, Liquid Courage, Liquid Backbone….Confidence in a Can
I’m glad we ended our abusive relationship.
I still run into you occasionally.
But that’s okay.
I know you are needy and high maintenance.