Last night, I probably made a few stupid decisions.
The first bad one was chugging cans of Coors Light while watching the first two episodes of Eastbound and Down, a show seeming designed for drinkers of Coors brand products. I was going out to a bar-party and I figured, as I heard it was expensive, that it was better to come with a “little buzz”.
Course, a little buzz for me meant three beers and a couple swigs of Whiskey-from-my-closet, which made me ornery as I walked out towards the bar.
The second one was buying too many drinks at the bar itself.
Fellas: I talk sometimes about good bars I like here on this board. A hint: A bar with a 10-dollar Jack-and-Coke is not a good bar.
But I was buying drinks for myself and then I found myself buying drinks for the young lady I started talking to, who seemed quite nice actually and the decision to buy her her drink came on whim (of drunkeness) but resulted in some pretty good conversation. I even felt a sort of drunken connection, the futzy-type where you might even end up clicking with someone.
However, the 10-dollar Jack-and-Cokes added up not only on my wallet but in creating the next mistake as well.
The third: I got too drunk.
Now let me define “too drunk” for me. I don’t get “drunk” like tripping on sidewalks very often. To my knowledge, I have never vomited while drunk. The craziest thing I can really think of that I did was a few weeks ago where I punched a bathroom wall for fun and laughed riotously at my own “bad-assery” when I realized my knuckles were bleeding.
Frightening, I know.
No, too drunk for me is when I sabotage myself or drown in whatever it is lurking at the edge of my psyche. Almost unconsciously, upon saying this, the advice of my friend Jonny-Jon-Jon would come to mind:
“You fool! That’s when you drink even more!”
But that’s just not who I am.
As I stood at the bar, the nice girl I was talking to ended up seeing some friends of hers and naturally talking to them. Looking back on the night, it seems so natural: maybe she hadn’t seen them in a while, maybe she just wanted to talk to them, maybe she wanted a little break from this guy who was getting all up in there.
But I was too drunk and when she didn’t resume talking to me after a couple minutes, she was another girl who’d gotten sick of me and thought I was gross or pathetic or something-whatever the dregs of my mind could pull up,
Without a word to anyone, I gathered my coat from the bar-party and began the sad trudge home.
My last mistake is like the nexus of all my previous one: Too drunk and sad, I sought to rectify the situation with blogging.
For those of you who saw the post, quickly deleted this morning, it was of the more nakedly “I’m sad” posts. Not really a story or anything and that’s not what I want this blog to become.
A MySpace this is not.
Worse yet, I think I might have sent the young lady a message when I attempted to drunkenly friend her on Facebook that very night. I tried to find it, but it was one of those things that isn’t recorded for you and so I don’t have any idea of it.
What I have is a memory of thinking it was drunkenly eloquent. We had been talking about growing up and the maturity of people in college, a scary question for someone who’s about to graduate. She seemed so self-determined and capable, it was scary to me, but I also like that in a woman, that sort of confidence or determinism.
I think the friend request was some sort of poetic entreaty to remain young or at least not to blame people our age for wanting that.
At least, the next morning, that’s what I hoped it was.
It might have also been something along the lines of:
I’m joking. I hope.
Finally, a note from last night, for something meta.
At the bar-party last night, I saw a few of my friends who trolled around the party with unkempt facial hair, stubby, perhaps in a relfexive need for post-collegial manliness, or at least a laziness with regards to shaving.
Among them was my friend Beamer, who told me he only skimmed my blog “to see if I’m in it”.
“But here’s one suggestion,” He told me. “How about this: no more posts about blogging.”
“Huh, umhuh, what do you mean?” I asked him.
“How about, just no, actually it’s fine.” He said and retreated quickly back into his barstool and his drink.