37. TEETOTALLING INDIAN COWBOY

The lesson learned from dating Cat Boy, the vegetarian (Post 5), is that desi dietary restrictions are sometimes tricky. In this, my second phone call with Indian Cowboy, I am getting to the bottom of the drinking issue.

“Did your college have a Greek system?” I ask. “Yes, but I wasn’t Greek. Were you?” he asks. “Yep. How else to get beer?” I joke, but really am serious. “So how much do you drink?” Indian Cowboy asks. “You made a reference earlier in the conversation.”

“A few times a week,” I reply. I might be a liiiiiiittle off, but cocktails are as Manhattan as taxi cabs, who really counts? “Is that a problem? Because my work and volunteering have social, sometimes drinking components,” I state, thinking this is going swimmingly! “I understand,” he says and adds. “You know I’m a teetotaler, right?”

Shoot a pickle. My parents are too, but don’t actually label themselves as such. They even have a full bar at home. Of course they don’t know this, but as a teenager I drank some of the vodka and gin and filled the bottles up with water.

Then he says, “I don’t keep alcohol in the house.”

Now I am WORRIED! Reigning in the drinking for THE ONE, is one thing. But frequenting the corner bar because I am not “allowed” to shake my own martini at home is crazy! And then what? I get into my car and drunk drive home? There are 19 million people living in this state! Does this sound like a good idea to anyone?

“What about entertaining?” I ask. “Of course,” he says. “I would never want our guests to be uncomfortable, I’d be okay with beer or wine … for them.”

Not for me? Something about his rigidity is bothersome, but for now, I drop the issue.

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