Of course, I know what did happen. While Skyler and I were getting high as a kite, Lisa started guzzling beers like there was no tomorrow. Later that night, Val held her hair as she vomited like a fratboy.

What made it even worse was that my gay friend Frank provided the play-by-play, as I waited just outside the bathroom.

“She must have had a big lunch because she’s still going. Wow, she practically unloaded a schnauzer. You go, girl. Trust me, you’ve gotta let loose. You’ll thank yourself in the morning.”

I woke up the next morning to the horrible sound of girl talk. “God, I wanted to get laid last night,” Lisa told her friend, her voice almost whiny. “I could just kill Skyler Abbot.”

That was the very moment I realized I needed a time machine. Nonsense, you might say. Time travel is an impossible pipe dream. What would you say if I told you I am a time traveler? What would you say if I told you I no longer live with what ifs?

You’d probably call me a liar. Well, it’s not the first time.