This is a true story, (as I remember it) of one night’s events.
Over a few summers, I had the opportunity to work in the best career field... camp counselor. Attached to the all ready great opportunity of working at camp was the package deal of living at my boyfriend's lake house. One weekend, in particular, some of his friends came up and as such weekends go, we started happy hour a few hours early. Add to this that I hadn't been drinking like I used to in my college glory days and I should have known I was headed for disaster.
Noon: “CrAaaCk. I open a beer.
Fast Forward to midnight: I was drinking wine out of the bottle. No glass needed, thank you. What?! I never said these were classy stories…
We were sitting around the firepit playing Charades and after hours of adult drinking, I was starting to get tired. I was no longer guessing rational answers, I was no longer participating because moving seemed like a superflous activity that I didn't want to partake in. I told Mike that I was going to the bathroom. A half truth, really since my real intention involved using the bathrrom excuse as the way to take a nap on the couch. I never came back out.
After years of adult beverages and Jenanigans, I knew it was time to be done with my day. I thought I was making a good adult decision.
Fast forward: Next morning's conversation:
Mike: So, babe. Do you remember last night?
Me: Sort of. I don't remember getting home though. Why?
I could tell by the look on his face that this conversation was about to take a turn for the worse.
Mike: Well, apparently you fell asleep on the couch. So, when we were ready to leave we had a search party for you.
Not so bad i thought. Big deal?! With any light detective work, I would have easily been found.
Mike: When I found you, I tried waking you up which was a feat in itself, you were out! So I took your feet and put them on the ground. You put them back on the couch. I put them down again. You put them up... again. So I took your upper body and lifted you up. This must have worked because you started coming to... and then proceeded to talk trash to me.
So I asked you "Jen, do you want to go home!"
And you responded, "Yes, I want to go home!" as you were trying to lay back down.
FINALLY, I got you up and was forcing you out the door when you turned into a defensive tackle trying to get to a quarterback. You were literally doing rapid breaks left and right to break away for a touchdown or something all the while yelling, "Mike, I wanna go home."
Me: You are lying!!!
Mike: Absolutely not! and I’m not even close to done.
I shuttered in embarrassment. Well, no. I shuttered in something but embarrassment has long since been an emotion that I feel… I tend to not be surprised anymore.
Mike: I decided just to wrestle you out, so I got low in your core area around your rib cage and began tackling you out of the door.... And then you bit my head!
Me: WHAT?! I did not.
Mike: Oh you did! You started biting my head and my side to get away from me and back into the house. I swear I almost punched you in the face just to get you to the car. Eventually, I had gotten you far enough from the couch that it was a distant memory and closer for you to walk to the car.... Then you snuck into the front seat where Conor was supposed to sit.
Me: Wow! I can't believe that I resorted to biting.
Mike: Yeah, and it hurt. You know… you're a lot stronger than you think.
Me: So you finally got me here though?
Me: Really? This story isn’t done?
Mike: Well, once we got here, you didn’t want to get out of the car.
Images of my childhood appeared front and center. Falling asleep in the car and not wanting to wake up and my mom or dad carrying me inside was typical as a kid… but now I was in my late 20’s. I doubt I was liftable anymore…
Mike: Conor figured out that implementing your name into things makes you happy, like weirdly happy.
Me: What do you mean?
Mike: Well instead of singing "cause we're TNT, we're dyn-o-mite!" Conor sang "cause we're TNT, we're Jen-o-mite! TNT she’ll win the fight". You loved it so much that you danced the whole way down the driveway begging him to sing it. Eventually, you got into bed and fell asleep singing it.
Me: (thinking pause) Ooooh. I like that song.
Moral of the Story: If you have a girlfriend that gives you lip once in a while, remember... at least she doesn't bite your head off!