(Read Part 1 here)
The wine bar where Becky hosted her party was large by New York City standards, which is to say, two people could stand side by side in between the bar and the wall, if those people were okay with touching intimately. There was a separate area in back with couches, rugs, and low-hanging exposed lightbulbs, the kind that indicate that this wasn’t your run of the mill bar, this was a sophisticated bar where you might hit your head on a low-hanging exposed lightbulb, but not even care.
Becky’s fiancé Phil greeted us at the door with large engulfing hugs. Phil went to Yale with me and was in my secret society (don’t tell anyone) so we have a pretty great friendship groove already carved out. Waiting with him was Marshall, my fiancé. Two fiancés in a wine bar! They’ve been known to pal around. Once I witnessed a 45 minute conversation in which Marshall and Phil discussed teaming up for an “Apocalyptic Extraction”...