Today I spent the entire day on the bathroom floor. Hovering between life and certain death I silently prayed my housemate would be be kind enough to wash the vomit from my hair before he called whoever it is you call when someone dies. “Why Why Why do I this to myself?” I wept into my old buddy the porcelain bowl. It’s a question I have asked myself on more than one occasion.. If I know I cant handle my alcohol, if I know for a fact more that two glasses of wine will certainly end with my head down the loo…then why for f-sake do i do it??
I decide to retrace my steps of last night to find out exactly where I went wrong.
Phone rings, I pick up.
“Hey”
“Hey”
“Drink?”
“Cool”
“Local at 7?”
“Cool, local 7″
I hang up.
So as far as I can tell this is just an average Wednesday night for me, meeting a friend for drink at my favourite beer garden.
The Pub is crowded with all sorts. The Tradies flirt with the ladies, the Suits huddle together to smoke and look cool in their suits, because they can, as they wear suits. My friend true to form is running late, I figure I’ll grab a drink and a table and appear to look as if I am totally fine having a drink by myself.
Its now 7.25pm and still no friend. I feel like a loner sitting at the table by myself with my now empty wine glass. I’m sure people are pointing and sniggering at the girl with no friends. Shit.
I stand up go to the bar and order a bottle of wine and TWO glasses to bring back to the table. There, now people will know I am waiting for someone as I have a bottle of wine and TWO glasses!
I drink one glass, no friend, no text. I drink another. If my eyes would focus a little more I’m sure I can make out people giving me the old
‘Oh that poor girl has been stood up, look at her all alone…nobody loves her’ Ugh, I have NOT been stood up, my friend has probably just been hijacked by a giant giraffe and is too busy writing her ransom note to call.
I am now dangerously close to finishing the bottle by myself. Its here, right at this moment, that voice in my head says…
‘Put down the glass Tara , you have drunk way to much already, just go HOME.’ Oh how wise that voice inside my head is.. And how easy it is to ignore while I refill my glass with the remaining wine.
With each sip, I feel less abandoned, out of place and awkward. I curse my friend for standing me up and blame her for the reason why I must now get drunk as my night is ruined anyway. As the last of the wine bottle is emptied I have now transformed. An hour and a half ago I was some slightly embarrassed and shy girl sitting in the corner, but now I feeeeeellllllllll grrrreat! Yeah baby that bottle of wine has really fired up my party bus and I look round to see if anyone else has noticed how totally hot I look tonight!! Nope, never mind.
I reach into my bag for my phone and call the one person I know I shouldn’t call.. Oh yes I did, I drunk dialed. I only wanted to tell him how hip and cool I’d become and that I didn’t care his new girlfriend looked like Giselle F-ing Buchen. No answer… he didn’t pick up .. That bastard!
Furious that I now looked like the crazy stalker Ex and that I, super sexy and now fairly drunk, Tara had been rejected I surveyed the room to see if there was somebody else who could make me feel great about me being great. Come on… does anyone want to try and pick me up?
Not even a whistle or wink.
I knew I was heading into the ‘I don’t feel good about myself, so please will you make me feel good about myself by trying to sleep with me’ territory. I had been there before and knew the warning signs well. I decided to leave but not before I searched my phone’s contact list to find another equally appalling contact. Bingo! he answered and within 5 mins flat I had shimmied into the passenger seat and headed off to a house party.
You are correct if you think things get worse. I had drunk enough to convince myself I wasn’t drunk, and joined in with the boys doing shots. whhooooo yeah Up Your Bum!!
shot one.. ughhhh Up youz …shot two… barely audible mumble … shot three… I was smashed!
There is a point when drinking does not become fun anymore, and I had reached it. It had now become dangerous. I was alone (my escort was shacking up with a mini blonde in the guest room) I was drunk and I had no idea where I was.
I searched for my handbag, found my phone and called my housemate. In tears I waited for him outside on the driveway. “Why didn’t I just have ONE drink and come home?” I sobbed.
Instead of doing the sensible thing, I was now in the depths of full blown self pitying and self hating that only drinking copious amounts of booze does to you. I’m sure you know the soundtrack..Nobody Loves Me.. I’m Ugly And Fat oh and the chart topper, Why is the world spinning so fast?
The thing about this story is although I may sound like a a complete and utter nut job, I can guarantee most of us have been there. Any night of the week you can witness girls splayed across the roadside curb crying into their phones. Alcohol has this way of doing that to people. It some how leads us on, making us think we are having a great time, that we are fun and flirty and just letting our hair down, before quickly dumping us and making us feel abandoned and miserable.
Is that two or three hours of fun really worth what comes next?
The brain splitting hangover is often made worse with the regret of saying or doing something you shouldn’t have. For most of us we are lucky we get of away with the remnants of a hangover. All to frequently I read in the paper how some stranger’s life will never again be the same due to binge drinking. Girls just like me who have had to much too drink have gone missing, been involved in accidents or even worse been assaulted. Drinking is dangerous in the way it makes you forget just that, that its dangerous. We think we are invincible. It makes us believe we are fine to walk home alone at night. That the little white pill will rock our world. That the kinda sleazy stranger who wants to buy us a drink is totally trustworthy, decent and worthy of our nights attention.
Yet in the cold light of the day, on the bathroom floor, staring into the toilet bowl…I realise, none of these things were OK.
Tara
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