“If it wasn’t for the fact it felt so good, I’d never make bad decisions, ever,” Caroline slurred. She was almost lying down on the couch opposite me, as listless on her fourth glass of sauvignon as she’d been energetic on the second.
“I never seem to have the opportunity to make half the bad decisions you do, at least be grateful for that,” I replied.
This seemed to pull Caroline half upright.
“But you are happy, right?” she asked.
Yes, I was happy. I’d lived in that sleepy town for six years, and made some friends that weren’t as dysfunctional as Caroline, and was one year into a relationship which seemed gloriously uncomplicated to any that I’d been in before. Caroline, meanwhile, floated along wherever the winds took her, and if there was any kind of storm, she sheltered here with me for a few days.
Last time it had been regrets about changing her job and working with a new company. This time, it was a broken heart, which had been the likely outcome from the moment she had fallen in love with her boss.
“I would let you know if I wasn’t happy, it’s definitely my turn to sit on your couch and drink your wine until I cheer up.”
Caroline walked over and sat next to me. She took my glass of beer and put it on the table. Before I could ask why, she kissed me hard on the lips.
“Sure you’re not suffering from the lack of opportunity to make bad decisions?”