I didn’t want to tell her that I wasn’t a drinker. It’s a difficult thing to admit to someone who clearly sees alcohol as a lubricant to their social interactions. Which is why I never told you, either, Niall. I’ve consciously hidden the fact that, until that wedding, I was essentially teetotal.

The strangest thing is that I don’t think you would have believed me if I’d told you. I’m pretty sure you’re struggling to believe it now. You can’t even begin to imagine a Louise who doesn’t get shit-faced and out of control.

The truth is, I was genuinely afraid of being drunk. Still more afraid of humiliating myself or losing my keys or phone or, I don’t know, some part of myself. My sense of control, maybe. I found the idea of not being in command of everything daunting.

But here was April, handing me a glass, and necking hers before I could even start. I wanted, so badly, for her to keep liking me. And so I drank. Quickly. I loved April’s approval as she put the empties back and grabbed two more. I loved, even more, the way she smiled at the waiter with a look that thanked him and hinted at a promise of something. And I decided that I was going to be like April, whatever it took.

I felt none of the dizziness I’d expected as the alcohol kicked in. I felt warmth instead. A sense of everything suddenly mattering less. It became easier to act like my new friend. To laugh and even, for the first time ever, to flirt.

April introduced me to all the groom’s side of the family. They actually seemed to like me, and that told me I was doing the right thing. I didn’t resist when April took me to the bar, or to the washrooms, to touch up my eyeshadow and restyle my hair. Little by little, she managed to erase the Louise I’d been, and replace her with someone shinier. Better.

And, in response, everyone suddenly seemed to want to talk to me. The DJ. That sultry Italian friend of April’s. The best man, who was definitely married. They actually wanted to flirt with me and be flirted with. At twenty-eight I finally felt desirable.

Somewhere along the line, I began to imagine that I really was a new person. A bubblier, sexier, better Louise. I started to feel like I was watching this better person interact, and the loss of control wasn’t terrifying, like I’d expected. It was liberating.

In short, Niall, it was the birth of Drunk Louise. She didn’t crawl out of some terrible depth like you might imagine; she emerged, butterfly-like, out of the drab, wilted chrysalis of my previous life. And God, I loved her.