doesn't matter how i hold it,
liquor in my hand brings shame to the man

i've sat at hundreds of dinner tables,
watched the women politely drink their water,
nobody stops their husbands from making fools of themselves
and my father takes pride in never having asked to be picked up from a bar
there's so much more i expect in a good man than sobriety

i drink to forget, more often to mourn than celebrate
i am classless, i am not marriage material anymore

it's 1:15 in the morning, and i see brown curly hair
and heartbreak wearing it like a costume
approaching me

6'2" and probably a little younger than me
still, he gets to be the tower
even though i've been here longer

you can't hear wedding bells in a place this loud
i took a (tequila) shot in the dark, and kissed him like i meant it