Too Many Drinks

29 Oct

Oof. I should know better than to listen to friends when it comes to certain subjects. These subjects would include (but not be limited to): who I should date, whether I should eat Thai food (story for another time), and especially- how much I should drink.

Let Exhibit A (actually, over the years it’s gotta be up to Exhibit X or Y by now) be the other night. After another disastrous relationship (that lasted all of two and a half weeks) with a charming young man named Christopher who unfortunately has a foot fetish that goes past “fetish” and into “obsession”, I had to go out and have some drinks.

This was the kind of night where your friends need to go, “I know you’re in your 30s now and every relationship you attempt seems to be either a practical joke set up by an omnipotent being or your own subconscious method of self-punishment, but take it easy and stay optimistic.” Instead, I got, “Yeah, men suck…screw them! Have another drink!”

So, I had another. And another. You know how you reach that threshold when you’re drinking where another drink seems very easy to have and you have already stopped listening to the reason of your own conscience? Yeah, I passed that mark at about 10:30pm. Not. Good.

If I can give my besties credit for one thing, it’s that they at least didn’t let me go home with “Albert”, who I apparently was hanging all over near the end of the night and exchanging pleasantries with. Knowing that I dodged that apparent bullet the next day was nice, even if it didn’t exactly fix my thudding headache or recurring need to kneel before my toilet. Still, hey, I dodged a long-term relationship with foot “fetish”-but-really-obsession guy, so “go me”, right? Let’s stay positive here, right?

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