internet: was i rude?

Last night was Sara’s going away party and I guess it wouldn’t really be a party unless I got in a fight with someone. And I guess it wouldn’t really be Sara’s going away party if that person wasn’t Sara’s little brother David, whom I love. Like, her brother and sister can be my brother and sister and they know that. We’re family.

But I don’t know if I was wrong last night or not, and I am willing to admit that there’s a pretty good chance that I was just being buzzed and in charge and bossy. That sounds like me, you know? But also maybe David was *killing my vibe*, like I suspected he was.

So this is the set up: It’s a house party. There’s a casual buffet with cheese and hummus and shit and a kiddie pool of beers out front. There’s like, 50 people there and I know all of their first and last names and what makes them cry. Like, this was not a strange house party. It was small and familiar.

The whole night was kind of an emotional raping for me, what with me reading a poem aloud in public then having to say goodbye to my best friend where I made a really public, tear-stained, booze-fueled speech because Sara and I grew up together and now we’re like, 30 and awesome.

And I don’t know about you, but that’s about the combo I need to slip into Anna Nicole-mode and start NEEDING A PICKLE. NEEDING.

I’m a resourceful woman, so I marched directly over to the refrigerator, minding my own, and started digging around for a jar of pickles. I knew it was not my home, I was willing to accept that there may not be pickles, but I thought, you know, I’m in the company of friends, that’s a cool action.

Then I hear David behind me like, “Molly! You are insane! What are you doing?! You can’t go through her fridge!”

And I whip my head around all crazy and am like, “Hey! I’m just looking for a pickle!”

And he was like, “You can’t do that! That’s not your fridge!”

And I was like, “Yeah, I never said it was my fridge, but there’s food out, which implies that food is available, which does not imply that the fridge is not available and frankly, I don’t think the host of this party or anyone here would deny me of a pickle and so you need to mind your own business!”

And then I saw Sara standing there and I realized that she was about to move out of town and I’m drunk, digging for pickles in a strange fridge, mouthing off to her brother and you know, maybe he was right. Maybe that is insane.

Or maybe this is fucking America and pickles between friends ain’t no thing.

But either way, I do love David and Sara and there were no pickles at that house and it was fine because I went to McDonalds and ordered one of everything from the Dollar Menu and passed out fully clothed with all of my lights on and woke up this morning and cried and cried because my favorite chapter of my life thus far is over and I’m so excited for the next one that it’s suffocating me.

But for real though, was I wrong to look for pickles? I really see both sides of it.