kiss de boy

"I mean," I slurred, going on three hours of half-pints at Brew at the Zoo, "there's so much about this that I don't want to mess up. And there's so much about him," I continued, imbued with the conviction that can only stem from irresponsible weeknight boozing, "that I always said I didn't want. He's younger, he's friends with my ex..."

The girls all nodded in wide-eyed unison, like good girlfriends should when someone is telling a good boy story.

"And it's funny, we know each other so well that last night we could say things to each other like 'if we were dating, tonight would have been the best date ever!'"

M sighed a deep and heartfelt sigh. "You totally don't want that to end, right?"

Perched on the ledge with my legs coquettishly crossed, I nodded in ladylike, giddy agreement. "It's like, once we cross that threshold, we can't go back! And right now it's all music and heartfelt confessions and sunrises and honesty. Who doesn't want to give that up?"

A slurped her beer and fixed me with her steely gimlet gaze. "And you guys haven't hooked up yet?"

I shrugged. "Nope. Not anything yet."

"So you know what you need to do," she said. A doesn't waste time with pleasantries, which is one of my favorite things about her. "At least make out with him."

Voices started chiming in along with her, "wait, you haven't made out with him? You haven't even kissed him and you're thinking about it this much already?"

"You guys," I laughed into my glass, "you sound like you're about to break into song."

Fuck.

I'm not sure how it started, but next thing I knew, my girlfriends had started singing in raggedy unison. "Shalalalalala, don't be shy, you gotta... *mumblemumblesomething* you gotta kiss de boy!" I think C busted out jazz hands, or, as close to jazz hands as one can get while holding a beer mug. I'm not sure because I was laughing so hard as I whipped my head around to see that their song and dance performance was gathering an audience. We were in a zoo, surrounded by drunks, and yet we were the ones being stared at.

They kept this up for a good minute or so, which it turns out is a really long time to have people drunkenly serenading you with repurposed Disney songs. As I tried to shush them while hiccuping and laughing, A said "of course, now when you do finally kiss him you're going to have this song stuck in your head."

"But I'm not even sure that I want to kiss the boy yet," I protested.

"Oh yes you are," she said. "You just don't want to admit it yet."

Crap. Drunk, singing, truth-telling, bullshit-cutting-through girlfriends. They'll getcha every time.