A Choice
A coworker of mine is getting married next weekend.
Yeeeeah. I’m squealing on the inside.
Last night she and her fiancé invited a bunch of their friends out to celebrate at a Tex-Mex restaurant. The food was great and the margaritas were more than appreciated, but it would have been way more fun if I had not been the only single chick there. I felt like I was in a Bridget Jones movie, except without the charming British accents. And beautiful British men fighting for my love. But that was okay, because two fine Mexican men named José and Cuervo were giving me all the attention a girl deserves when she is on the verge of attending another goddamn wedding one month after she got dumped by the guy she thought she could marry.
