I do serious, 'let-me-put-on-my-glasses' research on relationships and love and being in love and on the psyche and super ego and how according to Freud it attacks our basic sense of worthiness... But mostly I type 'how not to drunk dial your ex' into Google and read what 14 year old girls have to say on Yahoo Answers.
I get hungover. Really, crazy, pants-shittingly crazy hungover. So most mornings where I wake up after a night on the town (or on the couch with a bottle of bourbon- let's be real, here) I take a mental tally of my well being:
- Stomach: Prairie Fire shots were the worst idea ever. Prepare for a day spent no further than 50 paces from a toilet.
- Eyes: You were too drunk to take your contacts out, they are now fused to your eyeballs. Congrats.
- Mouth: It's like every tooth is wearing it's own fuzzy little sweater!
- Brain: Familiar vague hope that your friends forgive you for getting tossed out of the bar, again. ...But also a distinct sense of shame and foreboding... why?
Hmmm... why, why, wh- And THEN I see it. My phone, lying so innocently next to me on the bed. With a shaking hand I thumb it on and stare at the last conversation as my brain metaphorically falls to it's knees, it's hands balled in fists of rage screaming: 'NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!'. I've drunk texted my ex again.
It always goes the same way. It starts out pretty guilt free, probably around beer number two and shot number one. Just a quick text to say hey or to relate something funny that just happened at the bar that vaguely relates to the ex in question:
'I just saw a dude do a karaoke version of 'The Gambler' even worse than yours! LOL'.
Innocent, spontaneous, genuine. People like hearing when something reminds you of them, right? It's a compliment! Then, by beer seven and shot four, things start getting a little steamy, at least on my end. I'm most likely having a bit of trouble typing through the haze of jager and almost overwhelming feeling that I'm the most attractive person in the bar. The texts begin to reflect how long it's been since my last sexual encounter, and not to paint a super detailed picture or anything, but lately when I go to the bathroom I've started checking for cobwebs. So the texts are getting a tad desperate sounding, but are usually extremely ego-stroking and complimentary:
'Ur R hotta then nE of the ddudes in tihs bar!!@!!'
Still, that's streets ahead of the crap yet to come. By beer 'kickass!' and shot 'hellsfuckingyeah!' the texts are coming hot and fast - I've even instructed my friends to physically restrain me if they see me texting after 11 p.m and apparently I've gotten into some pretty near fist fights to stop that from happening. So, sometimes, there's the rare occasion that my ex actually takes the bait and starts sexting me back, but more often than not I just get fielded with responses of 'that's nice of you to say' or 'seriously, how drunk are you?'. But man, do I not let this slow me down!
'I wissssh I cuold tazte UR [CENSORED] as u rram it down mY [CENSORED] & u [CENSORED] my [CENSORED]'
I'm the hottest.
But I would actually give up the ability to smell if things stopped there, but oh no. Now it's most likely around three a.m, I've eaten all the shwarma I'm going to that night and I've stumbled home with my friends and now I'm rummaging in the liquor cabinet fishing out that bottle of chartreuse or amaretto that I just know I have because who wants this night to end, guys?! Am I right!?!? Shots! Shots! Shots! I'm a white hot mess, I've reached the drunk stage where I've had 'deep and meaningfuls' with everyone in earshot and now fumble with my phone for some highly inappropriate emotional diarrhea:
'I stil luv U & alwys willlllll & wud d0 nething 4 u!!@#!'
This isn't me. Let me be extremely transparent on this issue. It's said that drunks and children always speak the truth but children are little punk idiots and drunk people are not the SAME as their sober counterparts. Drunk Maddy may look and sound very, very similar to Sober Maddy, except for the slow blinking and tendency to slurr, but they are two very different people. Drunk Maddy is a optimistic, wild, free spirit with a passion for dancing and hugging and high fives - Sober Maddy is a cynical, permanently annoyed hipster whose insecurities outweigh her securities. Drunk Maddy doesn't understand why Sober Maddy doesn't just find a nice boy and fuck him to death, and since Drunk Maddy can detect these residual feelings that Sober Maddy has for her ex, she decides to step in and give a little helping hand.
What a cunt.
I'm really trying to work out this issue. Deal with my past relationship in a mature and clear-headed way - deal with my trust and intimacy issues and try and forge some worthwhile acquaintances with some men who I could see myself developing feelings for somewhere down the road...
But really I'll just leave my phone at home next Friday night.
