May the record show that I was on my best behaviour. After deciding that my boyfriend's ex was not a threat and that she seemed perfectly lovely, Mr Melon and I went to her house for predrinks.
Naturally, we were rather late because I got a wee bit flustered trying to find an outfit that said "friendly" for her, but also "sexy" for Mr Melon. I settled for a blue swing top and skirt, then realised that I looked ridiculous because my bra was 10000% on show. And I wouldn't have minded, but it was my granny bra that was really gross and bobbly. But, alas, my other bras were hidden under the blanket of clothes that is my floor, so I decided that the Granny-Meet-Stripper look would have to do. Besides, time was ticking and Mr Melon was huffing and looking at his watch a lot.
So I turned up at these pre-drinks with Vodka and a desire to make friends. But it soon became apparent that the entire room was off their faces. They were literally such drunk skunks - in a very explicit game of Never Have I Ever people were confessing to 'ejaculating and evacuating' and making sex tapes. Mr Melon and I knew that we needed to catch up on the drinking front.
Being a Convent Girl (aka a wee bit of a prude when it comes to...you know, sexual things), I didn't have much to drink for in Never Have I Ever. So instead I played my own game, called Drink 3/4 of a Vodka Bottle in 15 Minutes. Not my smartest idea.
Oh, but it gets worse. Mr Melon's ex then asked him/'us' (it was 100% directed at him) if we wanted a tour of her house, namely of her bedroom. So off we went off, the strangest threesome (not in that way, hey!) to have ever had a tour. And upon going into her room it became apparent that stood in front of me was the female equivalent of Mr Melon.
Same taste in books? Check. Same taste in posters? Check. Same taste in films? Check. It dawned on me that she was his ideal girl. And then she excused herself to go to the toilet because, as a wee bit of a drunk skunk, she had broken The Seal.
And then I threw up in her friend's bathroom. I'm not talking cutesy throwing up either. My sister is adorable when she's sick - she coughs so lightly and you literally cannot tell that chunks of grossness are coming out of her mouth. But me? I was retching as loudly as a car being revved on Top Gear. And Melon's ex actually heard me from the other room. Before I knew it, me and Mr Melon were surrounded by a group of people (whom, aside from telling us a wee bit TMI during Never Have I Ever, were complete strangers). I was mortified. I tried to stop being sick but, alas, it was as if I was throwing up everything I had ever eaten in my life.
And Mr Melon's ex was so nice about it - she said I could use her bed to have a nap in if I wanted. And after I unstapled my head from the toilet, I did go and lie down there. And then proceeded to tell Mr Melon all about my irrational jealousy for his ex. It seems that being drunk and being sassy are mutually exclusive when one is around your partner's ex.
But things did finally pick back up - he told me that she is definitely only a friend and that he likes the fact we aren't too similar. Phew.
But I'm naturally still mortified about the whole evening. And I had to see his ex the next day, and oh I wish I hadn't looked like I'd been eaten by a whale (I was pasty white and had unbrushed hair, wearing a cardigan that definitely clashed with my dress but was all that I could find in my room).
Heyho. The moral of this story is: Vodka is never the answer.