Punch Drunk Drama

I was down in the dumps last weekend over a silly love life (if you want to call it that). Usually, when this happens, I go out on a gimmick with friends and for some weird reasons, I shoulder the expenses (when I’m blue). It was a let down though as all of them were off for work. I ended up just watching Blair and Serena with all their high drama and roller-coaster love lives.

Anyway, I can barely recall the last time I went out on a Saturday night. Lately, my days were spent just sleeping and enjoying the couch potato life – and honestly I enjoyed it. Last weekend though, it took a lot of concentration for me to remember the last time I had an all-nighter. Instead, there were flashes of memories of the nights I was reeking of alcohol and totally humiliating myself.

Looking back, it was downright hilarious, utterly embarrassing and truly unforgettable:

The very first time I was trashed was funny. I had shots of tequila, and since I was doing the wobbling gait, my girlfriends escorted me to my friend’s room. While they were being helpful, I was screaming “Don’t rape me, don’t rape me!” at the top of my lungs. They still keep on reminding me what happened after 15 fucking years!

And yes, who would forget about the black-out episodes? Ironic huh? As usual, my dear friend assisted me while I climb up the stairs to her bedroom. I think I collapsed 5 times before I entered the room and didn’t have a clue how I got there. She was bushed as she literally carried me but she was laughing her heart out at the same time. Good thing I was at her place otherwise I’d be date raped.

There was the despedida party of my friend and tequila – again -- was served as main course. It was mid-week but what the heck, she was about to leave us so why not enjoy the night? On our way to her condo, she has to stop the car every five minutes so I can puke. What’s worse was I have to go to work at 4am since I can’t afford to be absent that time. She literally dragged me out of her bed, got me to shower and drove me to the office. I was laughing like crazy to what my colleagues were saying, even if they were talking serious stuff. I was slurring while my direct reports were seeking approval for some reports. A friend realized I was off the wagon, so she asked me to sleep for about half an hour. Miraculously, I became sober after. Funny, because my friend’s departure was delayed for about 4 months, so we have to re-do the whole goodbye party.

Sadly, getting wasted cost me my one true great love. It was one helluva story – he made a mountain out of a molehill. The gist was, I drunk dialled him and said all the right words about how I miss him and shit. We said those mushy good nights new lovers use to say, and I – out of all the freaking things -- forgot to press the end call button. So sneaky that he was, he stayed on the line. He heard the talk I had with a guy friend (who by the way, is my good friend’s relative – so totally platonic!), a loooong (so he said) silence, then chuckling and giggling! And he thought something happened! Whaaaat? To set the record straight, I did not do anything with the guy. But he was all paranoid and totally hurt, apparently. Well, just last year I think, he married the girl she dumped for me “supposedly”. Talk about being hurt ….

I thought I was a goody-two-shoes until I met a random guy in Bora and had a couple of Pier 69 drinks. In all fairness, we clicked. We ended up making out at the hotel’s veranda while a friend was in the room totally unconscious because of the booze. Good thing his place was a good distance away from where we’ve stayed otherwise it would’ve been a one night stand. It ended when my friends were boisterously making their entrance to the hotel. I was initially in denial when my friends teasingly asked me what happened. But my sore red lips, my messed up hair and hickeys gave me away. Haha. Ending? I deleted our picture --- no evidence. It didn’t happen!

I thought I was a goody-two-shoes – part 2. I’d like to think I was date raped. How can I be drunk after just 2 bottles of beer? I have to sheepishly admit though that I really have a low tolerance for alcohol. I silently prayed I was drugged to purge me from this “sleazy” feeling. But the thing happened again, and again, and again. And before I knew it, I had a fubu. Not in my wildest dreams. I regret it up to this day, as I liked the guy and I feel so cheap. Oh well!

I can be the female Manny Pacquiao counterpart. My Site Director told me I slapped him really hard when the dizzy spells came in. So at the office, he jokingly says that I have to be within the radius of 5 kms away from him as he doesn’t want to be physically harassed again. I think I jabbed some of the head honchos of the company – even the client. Wow!

I can name many more alcohol experiences – my experiences with all the “guys”-- Jose Cuervo, Baileys, Johnnie Walker, you name it. But this blog is getting lengthier than I expected and I have to prepare for work. Till my next alcohol adventure.