I looked at my phone, knowing what I would see: a text message from my best friend, Nia. She was currently living her best life in a bar that had whipped up some green beer for the holiday. The text included a selfie of her getting her n****e sucked by a guy who wasn’t her husband. Her husband, Jim, stood next to her, cheering on the other fellow.
It was just after midnight on March 18th, so technically, it wasn’t St. Patrick’s Day anymore, but the party wouldn’t stop until the bar shut down.
I sighed. “Well, it looks like Nia’s having fun.”
“That’s nice,” said Oscar, my husband, lying in bed next to me.
“I remember having fun,” I said.
“You could’ve gone,” Oscar said. “I’m sure Nia would love to have you
there to witness her shenanigans.”
I rolled my eyes. He knew why I didn’t go o
