I got a dream job. It wasn't particularly senior, but it was at an organisation I had admired since childhood. Finally, after a number of failed applications, something came up that was suitable for me and I lept at it.
Two weeks in, there was a concert put on by the staff, for other staff. If you had a talent, you could offer to perform. It was a free bar and a lot of fun and it was a nice family atmosphere. I have no talents, but was pleased to be going on to watch.
I didn't know the area or people well, so one of the people in the office offered to walk there with me. First, however, she wanted to swing by a launch party for a book the organisation was publishing. 'Of course!' I replied. I'd never been to a book launch and I was drunk on novelty and excitement and happy dreams.
Unfortunately, then I was just plain drunk.
I was young(ish) and stupid and ridiculously lightweight, and despite knowing I hadn't eaten since lunch, I thought a glass of wine at the event was simply what was done. I drank it. I didn't know anyone and was too embarrassed to talk to the famous author or his famous friends, so I had another wine simply to occupy my mouth so that nobody felt obliged to make conversation with me.
We walked on to the theatre where the other thing was happening. At no point did I have the brains to suggest I stopped for a bite to eat first. I just followed blindly.
Seats had been reserved at a table for us, at which there was quite a quantity of wine. I drank some wine.
It was a really wonderful evening. I vaguely remembered weeping at all the amazing talent that was on show. Then one of the senior people sang and played guitar with his rock band. I'd only seen this person in passing. I knew he was senior, was therefore terrified of him, and seeing him in casual get-up, wailing with all his heart into a mike blew my very drunk mind.
I recall we needed to finish the bottle of wine at the evening's end. I thought it would be rude not to help out there.
Finally, as people were gently suggesting we should leave, and that they'd put me in a cab, I came out with 'No! I must first tell Mr Senior that I love him!' And charged off.
You know how drink sometimes dulls your memory? Not this time. Oh no. I remember with hideous, horrific clarity, marching up to him, and puling him into a hug.
'I love you!' I said, tears of passion flooding over me. 'I love you, but I can't marry you, because I have to have someone else's babies!'
Oh God, I'm going red just remembering.
He said 'I'm so pleased you enjoyed it. Have you met my wife?' A highly amused woman shook my hand and asked how I was. I failed to answer.
I later found out that she was a Labour MP, which just cemented my awful humiliation. Mr Senior was absolutely lovely about the whole thing, but mentioned how I was 'a fan' every now and again until I left the organisation 3 years later.
I haven't had more than half a glass of wine at a time since.