We've all woken up after a heavy night of partying, checked our phones and had the urge to slam them so hard against the wall, watching our mistakes collapse into a million pieces on the floor. There, evidence is destroyed and you can go on living in Denial. But that doesn't happen, one – because the new iphone costs about 900 dollars and two – because destroying the phone will not make me un-see that horrid video of me climbing a light pole, claiming i was a monkey and telling the cute bartender I'll come down if he feeds me his banana. Whether it's photos, calls, or texts; it pains me to say it, but alcohol is sometimes our worst enemy. Personally, I can deal with the photos; in a few days I'll look at them, laugh and completely wonder who that girl I'm twerking with is – Heck, I can even deal with a call; I can laugh about that as well. "Haha- I don't even remember I called you, that's so weird ! No I did NOT say that ! Oh my .. hahah" The phone call is not recorded and with time, either one of us will forget it and let go. However, the one thing I absolutely can not deal, the one thing that eats me alive even days later is : Drunk texts – and even worse, unanswered drunk texts.
The proof is just sitting there; lying with you in bed, almost devilishly whispering : "come check out how you made a complete fool of yourself last night", "come check out how you fucked up IN CAPITAL LETTERS". Too drunk to walk. Too damn drunk that I decided I wanted to name myself Cleo-fucking-patra. Yes; But use capital letters and words not yet published in Webster's Dictionary? suuuuure!
I'm going to rewind a little and explain to you how I am when I'm under the influence of alcohol, nod along if you're the same. It will make me feel better to believe there's someone out there who understands. Here goes ..
When I'm drunk, I believe I'm president of the fucking universe. Heck, president of the whole galaxy. I think I'm witty, smart, and more importantly, fucking adorable. When actually, my mascara's running down my cheeks, I'm eying a boy so far away from me, he thinks I'm cross eyed, and my 10 years of professional dance lessons, well you can find them at your nearest recycling bin.
And off course, I text like a maniac. "Hey Lindsey, hey .. hey .. HEYYYY !! come here, come here, I'm gonna text John. Woot Woot"
Woot woot ? My poor friend tries to wrestle the phone out of my hand and sure, I unleash my ninja moves and she doesn't want to be seen with me anymore so she lets go.
Fast Forward to the morning. Not 1, not 2, but 3 mortifying texts to 3 different guys. I didn't even know I had so much action going on.
The 1st was to my ex-bf; where I unleashed my inner Fitzgerald. "Mountains may move before my love will whether and the sun will never rise again if you stay away my …" and then it gets really weird because, as I predict that half way through the message I remembered that he cheated and is a total douche who I never want to be with again. So this how it escalates .. "if you stay away my … fucking devil i hate u i hate i hate u i hate u fuckkkking asssss#@#@#@"
The 2nd was to that special boy who's been special for the past 3 years, but won't make the move to actually turn what we have into something serious. "i saw you leave with her. Don't even try. I saw you."
So I'm thinking, okay great, not so bad – until I scroll down
"where are you"
-- well at least he didn't try. I guess.
The 3rd and most dreadful was to this guy that I really liked who I had ran into earlier that night at a club. The text was simple – the name of the place I was in, followed with a question mark. The horrifying part is that he never answered.
So this is to the guys and girls who think drunk texting is the way to go. Drunk texting the way to go home, and no where else. I cringe when I receive a text at 5 in the morning and I think everyone should stop. In the very wise words of one man, Ted, from How I Met Your Mother, nothing good ever happens after 2 am. Leave your phone with a friend or in your purse behind the bar because once you get that phone between you hands, believe me it won't be a story to tell the grandkids.
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