If You Give a Mouse a Glass of Wine...

Tuesday night, then and now. (I'm the mouse.)

Tuesday Night. Then:

7:04 pm: Wanna meet me for a glass of wine? My girlfriend messages. I respond: I’m trying not to drink. But I guess one is fine.

7:53 pm: We order a bottle. It’s basically the same price as two glasses. We split some moulés frites and barely touch them. I kinda lose my appetite when I drink. Two shots appear at our table. The server points to a man at the bar wearing a wide brim hat with a bunch of silver rings on every finger. We smile and wave, and he heads over, pulls up a chair, and sits on it backwards. He was prepared, with a third shot in his hand. We toast and shoot. Mezcal. It burns.

He’s cheesy. His teeth are way too white, they look dumb. His face is dumb. He tells us about his boutique hotel in the desert and name drops like seven C list celebrities in a row. My friend and I kick each other under the table. I hate him.

9:47 pm: My friend’s Uber just picked her up, and I’m waiting for mine. Suddenly cheesy guy pulls up in a Porsche Cayenne.

“Wanna go to a pa…