Write One Leaf About Red Wine

There is nothing sadder than drinking alone, that’s what I was always told. But red wine with dinner doesn’t count as ‘drinking’ really, does it? Okay, so I had a glass before I ate as well. And a
couple after. And now I’m a little tipsy. Well, a lot tipsy. But at
least my sentences still make sense. And I’m spelling things right. And
I’m starting all of my sentences with and… Oh gosh, my knowledge of the
English language is fast disappearing. And yet I’m pooring myself
another glass.

And another. There are people who think red wine tastes terrible. And white wine for that matter. And champagne, which I guess doesn’t really count. It tastes fine. More than fine. I mean, the first glass
or two are kind of bitter, but you learn not to notice that. At least
it’s good quality wine. It could be worse. It could be that watered
down, sour grape juice that I used to drink as a kid. Well, a ‘young
adult’ I guess. But I was a kid.

But how did I come to be drinking alone? Why is there no one else to drink with me? Am I really that difficult to put up with? That’s what I’d like to know. There used to be people, back in highschool. I had
too many friends to count. I had a boyfriend every other week. I had a
booming social life. Granted, my grades didn’t reflect my intellect. I
know I’m not the smartest person around but I didn’t deserve to fail.
And now I don’t even have the friends I worked so hard for. Now I have
no one.

I used to be so popular.