Sometimes, you have to admit to yourself that you are just too old to be out on a Friday night.
Which is what we had to admit a little after midnight, as the place was starting to get crowded.
It had been a gathering of the usual suspects, there had been seven of us, just agreeing to go out for a quick and spontaneous drink.
After some back and forth, we'd gone to "this new place" that Melissa had "heard good things about".
It had turned out to be your utterly regular "new place", with walls in a fresh layer of a dark grey shade, a few beers on tap, a few drinks on the menu, and the same part-time student, part-time bartender you'd find everywhere behind the bar, tall, skinny, bearded and in a beanie, mixing drinks with an enthusiasm that matched the minimum wage paycheck he was getting.
And then the DJ showed up, starting to play vinyls that were probably "deep cuts" meant to impress people, because it sure as fuck was nothing recognizable. And of course it had to be juuust loud enough to compete with any conversation people were trying to have, which caused the conversations around the tables to grow louder, which in turn caused the DJ to turn it up a little more, because surely everyone was there to hear him play an obscure track 7 from somebody's album from thirty years ago, or last week, or whenever the record had been pressed.
The increasing cacophony of music nobody really wanted to hear, and the din from the other tables packed in just uncomfortably tight, eventually got us to the "fuck it" point, where we all agreed to drain the dregs of our drinks, and head out.
Out on the street, there was a quick huddle.
Some wanted to go elsewhere. It was after midnight, and I had been here before one time too many. There would be two or three suggestions for where to go next, those places would be packed, and we would eventually end up going to one of the usual three watering holes where we inevitably would end up when we had nowhere else to go. And tonight I really was not feeling it. So I declared my intention to call it a night and just start setting my course vaguely in the direction of home.
So did Derek and Amanda. Which made things even better for me. Meanwhile, Melissa was dragging the three others off towards "This place that does, like, the funnest drinks eeever!"
We waved the rest goodbye, and instead started walking towards the taxi stance down by the square.
Derek had been one of my best friends for about 10 years at that point. We met in college. Well, technically we met while drinking and not doing much studying at all. We were doing completely different majors, but outside of it, we ended up having a lot of fun, both with frequent bacchanalian pursuits, as well as just hanging out and shooting shit, gaming, and for a while even worked together at a sports bar, being the two part-timers behind the bar who kept the beer flowing.
Him an Amanda had been dating for about two years by then, and were living together. Their place was roughly in the same direction as mine, and Derek did have a nice cabinet stashed full of excellent booze. So when he asked if I wanted to join up at theirs for another glass or two before calling it a night entirely, I was not hard to convince.
A quick taxi-ride later, and we were at the flat they shared.
As soon as we were in the door, Amanda disappeared into the bedroom to get into something more comfortable than what she'd been out in.
I was absolutely not a stranger at their place, so it was entirely commonplace. And who wants to wear jeans in the comfort of their own home anyway?
I appropriated one of the two couches that took up most of what was the living room. The place wasn't big, especially not with the desk taking up what was left of the living room. But that was life in the city. Space was in short supply, unless you were loaded, and none of us really were.
Meanwhile, Derek was at the corner cabinet behind me, creating sweet sweet Scottish ASMR, in the form of the pop of a cork form a bottle, and the *clunk-clunk-clunk* of a single malt whisky being poured. I was handed a tulip-shaped Glencairn-glass with a generous pour of liquid amber in it.
Sure, it is normally polite to ask a guest what they would like. But the way we knew one another, sometimes that was not necessary. And with Derek's cabinet, sometimes it was best not to ask, because some of the stuff in there was pretty damn good and exclusive booze.
So I gladly accepted it, and took an inquiring sniff. Alcohol, vanilla of fresh oak casks, and some heavy floral notes hit my nose.
"Well that sure isn't Ardbeg 10" I said with a raised eyebrow, as Derek fell into the other couch across from me.
"You're absolutely right. And you should know what it is."
He was wearing a smirk.
I took a sip, and felt my insides melt a little bit as my palate was first hit by the booze, before noticing that it was a whole lot smoother than the first kick would suggest. And then it faded away into sweet, fruity tastes.
"Damn... that's the Cuvee, isn't it?"
"It absolutely is."
It was a 21 year old scotch, that had spent some of its life in wine casks. The stuff sold for roughly $130 per bottle. Booze old enough to purchase its own booze. Smooth as all fuck.
"Fucking hell brother, what's the occasion?"
"We'll get back to that later on." Derek replied with caution, as the sliding door to the bedroom rolled open, and Amanda came walking out to join us again.
She made a detour of two whole steps via the kitchenette to pour herself a solid glass of white wine out of a box, before slumping down in the sofa next to her boyfriend, leaning back against the armrest, while placing her feet in his lap.
While we relaxed and kicked back and chatted, I pondered why Derek would go quiet on the matter as soon as Amanda was back within hearing distance.
They were a happy couple, and they were definitely good for one another. Had he popped the question, about to ask me to be best man? Nah. Amanda was not wearing any new ring, although the ones she normally wore were off by now. But I hadn't noticed one earlier, had I? Fuck if I knew. I didn't exactly have a habit studying my best friend's girlfriend's hands.
Was he going to?
As already mentioned, Derek and Amanda had been dating for about two years. And they were deeply into one another. She was hitting all the right spots for Derek, and he wasn't afraid to show it.
Another thing me and Derek did have in common, was that we were both of the more dominant sort. And in private he had shared some of the details of what kept him so happy with Amanda. She was into a lot of the same stuff that he was. And it did show sometimes, the way she would make a small double entendre, and smile mischievously as Derek's eyes would darken. Or how he sometimes would casually threaten her, and she would blush while her eyes would light up at the same time.
As for me, I was in my second phase of falling between situationships after my last relationship had crashed and burned. Much like Derek, I appreciated a good girl, who sometimes knew that being bad would lead to some fun consequences. And I did let it slip when I talked, being rather open about how I knew codewords from the world of kink.
