A Friendly Game of I-Never

by Jason Shaffner

You go to a friend’s wedding and get really drunk the night before, pounding beers and draining shots with your college roommates, several close friends, and your ex-girlfriend.  After the bars close the group migrates to the hotel room where margarita mix and Jose Cuervo await.  Someone suggests a drinking game because he’s bored.  No one has a deck of cards, and the coffee table proves a poor surface for bouncing quarters, so the group settles on I-Never.

In theory a friendly game of I-Never could be fun.  Once before when you were still dating the girl on the opposite couch the game had proved a vehicle to brag.
 
“I never had sex in an elevator,” you said years ago.  You and your girlfriend drank; your friends shifted in their seats and looked away. 

“I never had sex on an airplane,” she said.  Your friends’ jaws fell as your beverages rose again.

But the time for bragging has long since passed.

Someone mentions that the game doesn’t have to be about sex.

“I never ate an entire pizza in one sitting.”  One guy drinks.
“That’s disgusting,” someone says.  The guy shrugs.
“I never cheated on a test in college.”  Two players drink, one of whom was Phi Beta Kappa.  You wonder what class it was and whose answers he swiped.
“I never drove drunk.”  Two players drink.

Tame questions don’t last long.

“I never had anal sex.”  One guy drinks.  Thankfully your ex-girlfriend doesn’t—you couldn’t have dealt with it if she had, since she aggressively nixed it the one time you proposed it.  Wouldn’t be fair if she changed her mind since.

 “Pitched or caught?” You ask the guy who drank.
 
“No follow-up questions,” says your ex-girlfriend.  It puzzles you that she might be worried about something that might later be asked.  It puzzles you because you were her first lover, her one-and-only until you broke up six months ago.  Since then you aren’t sure what she’s been doing, but you have verified many, many times with her best friend that she hasn’t found a new boyfriend.  You think the door remains an inch or two ajar and the weekend has the potential to open it all the way.  She looks good.  You plan to make a move after a few more cocktails.

Banal questions come and go.  The onus passes around the circle and back to you.  You’re bored.

 “I’ve never had a one-night stand,” you say, expecting to shock her when you drink.  Instead you forget to drink watching her hand rise swiftly from her lap. 

“Did you just drink?” you ask, hoping she drank only because she was thirsty. 

She nods.  Blushes.

You soak the sudden dryness in your throat with your drink.  When did that happen?  Who was he?  Does her definition differ from yours?  You drink several hefty gulps, all too aware you’re staring through her.  She rattles the ice and aims her eyes at the floor. 

Questions focus entirely on drugs and sex.  So much for good, clean fun.

“I never used cocaine.”  Two players drink; you’re surprised that your straight-laced college roommate has dabbled in hard drugs. 

“I never had sex on X.”  Three people drink.
“I never had sex with a person older than thirty-five,” your buddy says.  You glare at him as you alone raise your drink in the room of twentysomethings.  You regret telling him about the story.  Your ex-girlfriend squints at you; that confession bothers her.
“I never had sex in a car,” the next person says.  You want to drink, but the truth is you never could convince her to go for it, despite having often proposed it. 

She drinks.
 
You don’t notice if anyone else does, because you want to stand up and proclaim: “no, we never did it in a car, silly.” 
You mix another drink.  What car?  The car you and she drove to Disney World four years ago?  The one you dug out of the snow the day after you broke up?  The one you borrowed a few weeks back for grocery shopping?  How did they do it?  Front seat or back?  Was she on top or was he?  Did you unwittingly sit in their leavings?

You finish half the drink all at once, top off your glass, and return to the couch.  Another few questions pass uneventfully.

“I never cheated on my significant other,” you say, payback for your buddy’s crack about that thirty-eight year-old woman you picked up last week.  His girlfriend’s in the room and she’ll be pissed to see him drink.  She will sit and stew the rest of the night, wondering whether he cheated on her or on some girlfriend before.

But your ex-girlfriend drinks too.

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