I’m gonna start by saying my husband and I don’t get out much. With small kids and a deep fondness for my couch, it’s almost always easiest to just stay in. But a couple of weeks ago, we got a sitter and decided on a last-minute date night. Nothing fancy — just a couple of tired parents popping out to a local restaurant for a drink and a quick dinner. Until things took a wild turn.

And I blame the bartender. Or maybe the fact that I skipped breakfast and had a very light lunch. Either way, the combo of an empty stomach and one (yes, only one!) stiff and delicious cosmo sent all of my type-A, neurotic inhibitions flying out the window. The buffalo chicken I ate as I drank failed to soak up the booze. Instead, the last sip sent me into high-school-prom-night-level fun and I became a version of myself who was down for just about anything — a striking contrast to my typical “I wanna go home and get into my full-coverage pajamas” kind of self.

And I think my husband picked up on the shift pretty early. I watched his eyes widen as I started to ramble on, loudly, about various topics. I laughed at a lot of my own jokes (which were obviously funny). And then I think it might have been my idea to go have sex somewhere. I likely brought it up as a joke, for a little shock value, which is something I do often and then laugh it off, changing the subject. But that night, apparently, I was down for the follow-through.

After paying the bill, our first stop was the grocery store, per my request. Whenever I get a little buzz on, my first urge is to head straight to the candy aisle. And once we were back in the car, I knew what he was thinking: that I was to dive into this party-sized bag of Mike & Ikes and spiral downward into a sugary buzzkill of depression and sadness. I mean, it’s fairly predictable. But not that night. He’s a kickass dad and an amazing husband and I was determined to show him a good time. So rather than immediately ripping into my desserts, I put the grocery bag at my feet and said three simple words: “Let’s do it.”

I am not entirely sure what I was expecting when I said that, but I think it was either him calling my bluff and driving home, or us finding a very private and secret place to discreetly do the thing. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to suggest that we do it right there in the grocery store parking lot, when the sun hadn’t really fully set yet. But there we were.

And I might be a boring kinda gal at this point in my exhausted motherhood life, but I don’t like to back down. When I am called-out or dared to do something after a very stiff cosmo, I’m gonna do it (apparently). So this rule-following, kinda-boring, definitely-not-sexually-adventurous mom banged her husband of eleven years in the back of an old SUV in a kinda crowded parking lot. Can I get a HELL YEAH?!

Of course, had we been arrested for indecent exposure, I would likely feel different about the experience. But since I only suffered a slightly pulled hamstring, I would recommend it. It was great for morale. And it’s good to know I still got it. I mean, thanks to the cosmo.