Why I Was Drunk At Midnight

I can confidently say that most 25 year old females do not have the same track record for dumb discussion making as I, Lyra Cole, do. Granted I have never run the studies before, but sitting at the bar at 11:23 PM the day before I start my new job as assistant to the CEO of Balton INC doesn't seem like the best time for such research to be conducted.

So instead of putting into use the past seven years spent vainly trying to be a research psychologist, only to end up with piles of student loans and useless college credits, I begrudgingly review my own poor choices from a philosophical perspective. Besides, I don't need a correlative study to tell me that I am beyond the average for stupid decision making.

Take for instance what landed me sitting at a bar, punk rock blaring in the background, drunk contemporaries bumping into my chair and tainting the air with smoke and hormones all while I sat alone drowning my sorrows.

What sorrows you might ask? Well, there were too many to count.

For one, I had two weeks to find a new apartment. My lease on the old one was nearly up and the rent was going up. I had spent the last two months looking for something, but nothing was in my price range. Not even the two-bedroom, one-bath, roach-infested, and rat-infested flat off of Cooper that I would have had to share with four other people.

That is why I had started looking for jobs. In the same string of luck as apartment hunting, the only company that offered me a job was Balton INC. I was offered the position of CEO's assistant. I was overqualified for the position, but none of the other hundred companies wanted to hire me. Apparently, not many people were looking to hire dropout Research Psychologists with zero work experience that wasn't waitressing.

Fortunately, I did get the Balton INC job, but that meant that I would be spending the next little while following around the notoriously hard-headed and demanding CEO, Warner Balton.

Oh, and let's not forget my decision to date Mark. He was nothing but a cheating scumbag, but for whatever reason, I thought I could change him. News flash, I did not change him. Instead, I put up with two years of emotional abuse and cheating just for him to dump a month ago me for being too self-absorbed…

However, none of these decisions were as dumb as the one I was about to make.

Admittedly, I had a little too much to drink, and I knew I should have left before now, but I had wanted at least one more Manhattan before going home to cry myself to sleep. Damn that Manhattan!

When I turned to leave after closing my tab, I spotted him. Mr. Mark Scumbag Walters himself. He had a blond, two sizes smaller, and boobs twice as big as mine, draped over his arm. And, just my luck, they were sitting at the table closest to the only exit out of the bar. Only my luck would bring such a scenario into reality.

There was no way that I was going to get out of this bar without him seeing me. What was worse, was that I was alone so there was no one to cover me as I snuck out of the bar. Abby and James, my best friends for years had offered to come out with me, but they both had big projects coming up and didn't need to watch me drown my woes.

Maybe I chose him, out of all the 200+ people in this bar, because I thought I knew him from somewhere. Maybe I was just desperate enough to grab the first person I saw who looked like they were leaving the bar for the night. Maybe I will never know what possessed me to grab the arm of the man who had just risen from his seat two down from my own as he walked past me towards what I assumed was the exit door. And only heaven knows why I would proceed to ask the following question, "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

Whatever confidence I had immediately came crumbling down as he twisted his arm out of my grasp and quickly turned his pensive emerald eyes to me. If looks could kill, I was most definitely dead. However, he was so pretty I wouldn't mind dying by his hand.

But, the night was young, I was stupid, and there was plenty of time for my opinion to change. Especially when he nearly growled out his response.