Nothing says love like puking in your boyfriend's car

The first time you REALLY get drunk with someone is a memory to cherish.

I had planned a small get together with 20 of my closest friends at a local Irish pub - a get together that I pre-partied for via two glasses of wine shared with my mother when I dropped off my son at her house, and continued through 1 40 of Mickey's that I shared with DD in the car prior to even entering the bar.

I was feeling pret.ty good before even walking in to greet my friends.

The great and terrible thing about birthday at bars are that people buy your drinks like it's their JOB.

You mix shots with fruity drinks with beer with...oh my.

The bonus of the evening that I can remember is that DD holds his own remarkably well in a crowd of mostly strangers. I don't have to babysit him, he doesn't follow me around and I find that I AM the one making my way over to him for some drunky smooches more often than I would have expected.

Things get a little foggy towards the end of the night, but I do find myself outside either chatting or observing chat with a couple of friends when DD hugs me from behind. I turn, lean into him, and nearly pass out on the spot.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pulling me away from him to look at me.

I shake my head "no" apparently unable to speak.

"Do you want to go home?" he asks.

I nod my head "yes."

He laughs and says "okay, let's go say goodbye to your friends" and parades my drunk ass around for goodbyes.

Somehow we get lost on the way home (he tells me the next day that I gave him bad directions). I am in and out of consciousness, although he pulls over once when I think I might puke up the salad, piece of pizza and various forms of liquid libations I've indulged in that evening.

Unfortunately, he's not pulled over when my body finally decides to purge itself.

I recall him saying "oh, lord..."

The next thing I recall is being drunkenly mortified, closing my eyes and telling him to drive and that I will take care of it.

I shower to get myself clean, wrap myself in a towel, dig out the clorox wipes and march outside to fix one of the more horrific things I've ever done in the presence of new boyfriend.

I'm not sure how long I spent cleaning the door and bottom of his car, but I know that when I finally return upstairs, he is asleep on my bed.

Happy Birthday, Little Red. Good job. You are clearly older and wiser.