Entry 10: Better Off Friends

I am never drinking alcohol again.

I can't believe I let myself lose control like that. It's been years since I had that much to drink in one night, and now I know why I make it a point to limit myself to two drinks. I can still feel the dull throb in the back of my head – ouch. I'm so tired, and it's only six-thirty. But even though I want nothing more than to crawl under the covers, I am making myself commit this to paper while everything is still fresh. Besides, by tomorrow, I might lose my nerve.

So yes, I got drunk, drowning the pain of knowing everyone forgot my birthday in bucket after bucket of margaritas. I hadn't had a girls' night out in a while, and I got so caught up in laughing and telling stories. I guess I could have found worse ways to spend my 35th birthday. Alone comes to mind. And sure, my son deserted me, Mother forgot about me, and Tony – well, he really didn't have an obligation to be here, but it would have been nice – had he known.

And if everyone had been here for my birthday, what followed my affair with Mr. Jose Cuervo would never have happened – and that most certainly would have been for the best. I think.

So Tony got home to find me and the girls camped out on the floor munching on chips and salsa and guzzling even more margaritas. It only took my keen, though blurry, eye a second to tell he was in no better shape than we were, except he was supposed to have been at YMCA all night, not bar-hopping, as it appeared he'd been doing. And I still don't know if I buy the story about helping teens witness the affects of alcohol, but he's sticking to it, so I guess it's possible.

No sooner does Tony walk in than the girls head out, leaving Tony and me alone and drunk not five minutes after I had to defend the nature of our relationship for what seemed like the thousandth time since he moved in. At least this time it was good-natured, but was still just as embarrassing to deny, again for the thousandth time, that I find Tony attractive. At least I can admit it here: Yes, I find Tony attractive. Is that so wrong? Who wouldn't think he was good looking? But if I even once admit it, then suddenly the whole neighborhood will think we're … well, you know. And besides, finding someone aesthetically pleasing hardly means I want to … well, you know. He's Tony, my housekeeper, and that's all. And if I have to pretend not to notice his looks, his muscles, and other attributes in order to preserve the integrity of our relationship, then I'm quite willing to do it.

In any event, Tony and I found ourselves in the kitchen baking a cake because he felt bad about missing my birthday. He is so sweet sometimes. Now that the fog in my mind has cleared, I remember every little detail with startling clarity, not that I'd ever tell him that. The conversation got a little personal, probably due to the alcohol, and we came pretty close to saying some things that are definitely better left unsaid, especially under the intoxicated circumstances. While it's one thing to let him know I appreciate all he does for Jonathan, it is completely another to admit all he has done for me. And based on his own verbal tap dance, I'd guess he feels the same way. It's far too important to our working relationship and growing friendship that we keep to safe, neutral topics.

So how did we end up kissing? Oh gosh, it's as mortifying to admit that in writing as it was to remember it, but unbelievably arousing at the same time. How can that be? Yes, okay, I kissed Tony, or he kissed me. I'm not sure. But, yes, we kissed. And my stomach still flip-flops thinking about it. One minute we were chasing each other around the table, throwing flour like two little kids, and the next, we were holding on to each other, inches apart and moving closer.

And darn it, I can't even honestly say it was all his doing. Our eyes met, I could see what was going to happen, and I did absolutely nothing to stop it. If anything, my actions encouraged it, and then I actually participated by wrapping my arms around him and completely losing myself in the moment. Unfortunately, remembering the feel of his arms around me, and the wonderful pressure of his lips, does nothing to help me recall what I was thinking. Except that yes, it was a good kiss – a really, really good kiss – like toe-curling good, that I won't soon forget.

But his ego doesn't need to know that, now does it? That's just my private, little admission.

I guess I can't be too hard on myself. I was drunk; he was drunk, and we just let the moment get the better of us. And it was just a kiss. It's not as though what I thought had happened actually happened. So we kissed; people do it all the time.

But not people who are committed to maintaining a friendly business relationship. I just can't believe I let it happen. But a part of me is so glad it did. I can't say I hadn't thought about it, but to actually kiss him … oh man, it was better than I imagined.

Now that's it's over and talked about, things have pretty much returned to normal. There was surprisingly little awkwardness today, and once the mood was lightened by our false bravado, we had no problem acting like nothing happened. The operative word of course being act. I can't deny the kiss stirred a few emotions in me that I'd rather not admit to having about my housekeeper, especially when coupled with my earlier confession that I find him attractive. But more important to me is keeping Tony and Sam in my and Jonathan's life. I couldn't risk romantic involvement with Tony. If things didn't work out, which the very likely wouldn't, then I'd lose a great employee, a very dear friend, and the only man Jonathan has to look up to. It's just not worth it.

And I know Tony feels the same way. Being involved with me, assuming he'd even want to be, is not worth the risk of uprooting Sam when things fell apart. We're just too different, and even though those differences haven't hindered our working relationship or friendship, taking it to the next level would be disastrous. Tony has proven himself able to work for a woman, but could he really accept being the non-breadwinning half of a couple? Could he accept our different economic positions and levels of education? For that matter, could I? I want someone with whom I can share conversation about art and literature, not sports and spaghetti. I want someone who considers high culture a night at the opera, not a night at the bowling ally. And I'm sure he wants someone who knows the Cards from the Cubs and who isn't afraid to relax and go with the moment. And despite my actions last night, which I stress were completely out of character, I'm not exactly the type of woman a confidant, masculine, good-looking man like Tony Micelli would be attracted to.

Sure, maybe there's some attraction between us, at least on my part, and maybe the kiss felt better than it should have, and maybe it stirred more emotions in me than it should have, but one moment of acting on that attraction is not reason enough to risk the relationship we've managed to forge so far. I don't want to lose Tony, and if that means keeping my baser emotions in check, then it's a small price to pay in the long run. Tony and I are definitely meant to be friends, and nothing more, kiss or no kiss.