You know what I miss? Those sloshy eruptions of eloquence that happen when friends of a certain age and shared sensibility get together over drinks. I guess it's often a carryover from collegiate days, that feeling of bonhomie combined with a newfound sense of emotional freedom, being able to talk about anything in your head. I loved those kinds of endless late afternoons, shading into evening. You never intended to linger so long, maybe there were movie plans or whatever, but the conversation is going somewhere, a feeling of some kind of authenticity being touched upon. Brave on vodka or red wine, you effortlessly find your true voice, suddenly you find yourself able to hone in on certain truths which had previously eluded you. It's a version of yourself slightly more impressive than you thought it was possible to pull together. Just at the right moment, another bottle is found, gleeful noises erupt as this means the spell needn't be broken just yet.

Yes, the alcohol is both facilitating this and fostering an illusion of depth, like a pair of cheap 3-D glasses. You know this, you're not an idiot, but for some reason liquor's role doesn't invalidate the genuineness of the experience. It's a fine line, though, don't get greedy. Best to leave 'em wanting a bit more, get out before you have one too many and begin that dismal descent into cheap sentiment. A reliable sign that you're skirting this danger zone is when people begin hugging each other.