You and Roger got drunk and fell in love 35 years ago. You’ve stayed drunk and in love ever since. Roger died this week of cirrhosis of the liver.
“Today’s my first day sober since Roger and I met,” you tell the gathered mourners. “The minute we laid eyes on each other, we felt such a wonderful feeling and we did our best to hang on to that exact same feeling for the rest of our lives. That required us to maintain a certain level of inebriation at all times. I was drinking vodka tonics that night, and I’ve had a vodka tonic every 90 minutes for the past thirty-five years, except for when I was asleep or in court. Roger was drinking bourbons, and he continued drinking bourbon and loving me with every single sip.
“Roger’s gone now, and I’m never going to drink again. I was drunk on Roger as much as I was on Vodka, and I don’t want one without the other. I never want to feel drunk again, because it will remind me of him. Of what I had, and what I’m missing.”
Look up at the sky, like you’re talking to your man.
“Being sober feels awful,” say. “But so does being without you. I miss you sweetie. I’m thirsty for you.”
Happy Drunk Love Day!