Friday, January 16, 2009

Friday night, 11 pm.

A good part of the way into a bottle of wine, homemade aloo gobi on the table. We're watching Lost in Translation, the karaoke scene. Bill Murray takes a shot of something and we reminisce about wild, lost drunken nights. I spin out a few stories, many involving my college days.

"I'm starting to feel like the guy from Clerks," Adam says. " 'I was drunk with this guy, that guy ...' "

I laugh. But it's not like that, not exactly. These weren't nights of illicit sex. The good majority started in innocence and ended exactly the same way.

They were open nights, nights of possibility. I'm married now and those nights have come to a close. I don't regret the loss. I just remember the moments with a grin.

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