“Where to?” Monique asks, as we walk away from the open air cinema. “I’m down to do whatever tonight.”
“We have got to take her to Temple Bar, of course,” Tessa says. “After all, what would Temple Bar Square be without Temple Bar?”
“Just another random square,” Monique answers, and laughs.
“Or maybe a circle?” Tessa proposes.
They crack up and I laugh some too but they think it’s a lot funnier than I do because they’re a lot more wasted.
“You guys have been here before?” I ask, looking around to try to figure out exactly where we are.
There’s a party atmosphere that feels vibrant and busy. I’m glad it doesn’t seem like a sketchy place but it also doesn’t feel super safe.
Not being much of a partier— or any sort of partier at all— I’m not familiar with this area of Dublin. I want to make sure I know where we are. I have a feeling I’ll be leaving a lot earlier than these two party animals will be.
“Of course,” Monique says. “We come here all the time.”
“They have live music,” Tessa says. “And great food.”
“That’s good,” I nod. “I am getting hungry.”
“If I eat anything I’ll burst out of my dress,” Monique says. “I need to save my calories for more alcohol.”
“But Jade’s calorie meter is nearly on empty,” Tessa says, “Because she has barely had anything to drink all night.”
We enter the pub and I find that they were right: the band is great and the fish and chips are even better. I even order a pint of Guinness and a glass of Bailey’s to go with it because the waiter tells me that no Irish meal is complete without it.
We hit the dance floor and have a fun time trying to dance to the unfamiliar Irish music. After a couple more drinks I feel a bit woozy and I remember why I don’t like alcohol. I hate feeling out of control.
Monique and Tessa start flirting with some guys they keep calling “Irish lads.” But I hang back, always feeling shy and unsure of myself around men or anyone other than friends and family members with whom I feel comfortable.
When they start locking lips, I decide it’s the perfect time to take a break. I’m a sweaty mess from dancing and I am starting to get tired. I think about calling it a night but I decide to go sit down for a little while instead.
“I’m going to head to the little lassies’ room,” I tell Monique and Tessa, but they’re too busy making out on the dancefloor to pay me any attention— and once again I’m glad.
I go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. I sit down on a bar stool near the exit, trying to decide what to do. My fingers instinctively reach into my purse where I keep my Kindle. I’m in the middle of a great book— William Trevor’s Love and Summer— and suddenly it seems a lot more appealing to me than making out with random strangers like my friends are doing.
I start to pull the Kindle out from my purse, wondering what kind of comments people might make about how lame I am, but just then Tessa comes up and grabs my arm. I nearly drop the Kindle but instead it falls back into my purse.
“Come on,” she says. “Gotta get out of here.”
I’m only too happy to oblige.
We run back into the square, Monique and Tessa laughing loudly and drunkenly.
“What’s so funny?” I ask. “Why did we leave?”
“Oh come on, like you care,” Monique practically snorts. “I saw you itching to read your Kindle in a bar.”
She erupts into another cackle of laughter.
“Were you really?” Tessa says, chuckling along with her.
Shit. I was hoping both had been too drunk to notice. I decide to focus the conversation back onto them.
“You both looked like you really into those guys. So why did you run out?”
“Oh please,” Monique says. “Mine decided to tell me he was married, after he decided to make out with me.”
“Ewwww,” I exclaim.
“I know, gross. He was like, ‘Oh hey can we go to your flat because my wife is home.’”
“Wow, that’s even worse.”
“Yeah, so it was definitely time to split. I don’t hook up with cheaters. Of course he wasn’t wearing a ring and I hadn’t thought to ask his marital status before we started locking lips. Note to self: never get to drunk to check on this first.”
“Was yours married too?” I ask Monique.
“No, he was just a really bad kisser, which is almost as big of a sin.”
Now I laugh heartily with them.
“But why were you trying to curl up with a book in the corner?” Monique asks me. “You didn’t even fill up your calorie meter with enough drinks.”
Tessa and I look at each funny and then Monique laughs.
“Is that even a thing? I don’t know. I’m drunk.”
“Seriously, Jade,” Tessa joins in. “What’s up with that? It’s not like you have to be DD or something.”
“I know,” I tell them, shaking my head. “I’m just…”
“What?” Monique asks, stopping on the street and turning towards me, seeming surprisingly more sober than she did just a few seconds ago when she talking about ‘calorie meters.’”
“I’m pathetic, I guess,” I tell them.
“No you’re not!” Tessa insists. “Don’t say that!”
“Well,” I shrug, shivering in the cold night air despite being the only one of the three of us sensible enough to be wearing a coat.
It’s an orange leather jacket I just bought last week while shopping on Grafton Street. It’s warm but I’m still cold. “I know college students and even high schoolers are supposed to be experimenting with everything under the sun but I just never have.”
“You never have what?” Monique asks.
I look at her and then at Tessa. Both of their eyes are bulging out, waiting for me to answer, as if I’m a rare specimen of 19 year old woman they’ve never seen before.
“I’ve never done a lot of things,” I confess. “I never drank before I came to Ireland where I’m legally allowed to do so.”
I start to explain myself. “I guess I was always afraid of getting in trouble. And I know it sounds lame but I like to be clear-headed so I can read…”
“No offense, but we kind of already knew that,” Tessa interrupts, and she and Monique both laugh. “I mean, you always ask us what’s in every drink and how everything tastes and stuff.”
“Remember when Tessa asked if you wanted an Irish car bomb and you said, ‘Do the Irish like to smoke weed in their cars?” Monique asks.
“Yeah,” I say, laughing with them.
“You thought I’d said Irish car ‘bong,’” Tessa explains, unnecessarily.
“To my defense, you were slurring your words,” I laugh.
“I’m sure I was,” she agrees. “I was already a couple Irish car ‘bongs’ in and I’d also had a hit or two from an actual bong. And you didn’t even want any of it.”
“Hey, I tried yours!” I say defensively. “I just hated the taste.”
“So what else haven’t you done?” Monique asks, her face taking on a serious expression again.
I can’t believe I’ve never told them any of my deep dark— or more like extremely innocent and boring— secrets. But we haven’t been friends for very long and I’m a private person. Plus, I just feel silly when I talk about it.
“I’ve never gone out and partied for like, gone to a bar even,” I confess. “I mean, before tonight of course.”
“I guess that’s kind of obvious too,” Monique snorts, as we all start laughing again. “Because you were like ‘What is Temple Bar?’ ‘Why is this square named the same thing as the bar— or is it the other way around?’ ‘Where in the world are we?’”
“Okay, so since you never had a sip of alcohol back in high school then I assume you’ve never done drugs either?” Tessa asks, getting back to the business of interrogating me about my past experiences or lack thereof.
“Correct,” I respond, as if I’m on the stand under oath.
“Wow, what did people even do at your high school?” Monique asks.
I laugh again.
“Oh, my friends and I were band geeks and book nerds,” I shrug. “We liked to go to musicals and movies and such.”
Apparently I’ve seen Ferris Bueller one too many times, I think, but I don’t add that.
“Have you ever even…?”
Monique starts to ask, but Tessa nudges her and says, “Shhhh.”
“It’s okay,” I tell them, the liquor making me bolder. “I know what you’ve both been wondering.”
They want to know the answer to the Big Question. If I’m still a virgin. If I’ve had my first time. If my cherry’s been popped. And I’m feeling brave enough to tell them the answer.