This weekend I went out on the town. I met one of my only single girlfriends out at a bar, drank a bucket load of prosecco, and watched her make out with an off-duty cop from New Jersey. I made excuses that I was exhausted and was back at home, in bed, at 2 a.m. Kelly was slightly disappointed in my turning in early. “This isn’t the Amelia I remember,” she scolded. “Next time, you’ve got to be out until at least four.” I promised her that next time I would be. But I was lying. Keep reading »
