I remember asking myself a simple question recently that led to a vast variety of answers appearing in my mind that didn’t really answer the question. I left it for further contemplation and decided to sleep on it. Morning after I couldn’t remember a single word from the question as I was completely wasted the night before. This unfortunate reality made me kind of upset yet at the same time kind of happy. Happiness coming through due to the fact that I realized, that stupid shit crosses my mind much more often when I’m intoxicated than (NOT then) when I’m sober.
So I’ve decided to do a little experiment tonight. Do all the writing AND more importantly thinking, whilst completely drunk.
I’m not really certain as to what to expect since I’ve been disappointingly surprisingly happy and cheery lately, but I’m sure something will turn up.
First off, don’t let anybody fool you, different drinks (or a mixture of thereof) all affect the mind differently, and in different people to begin with, the results could be that much more fucked up and/or hilarious.
For instance why do people get retarded in clubs? Shots mixed in with light alcohol (eg. beer, coolers) tend to cause quite a fuckin’ helicopter ride if you don’t have the stomach for it. People on this (fairly routine) combination are usually some of the more entertaining characters you will encounter on your night out in the city. The levels of intoxication usually go something along these lines:
Guys tend to start feeling like bosses ($100 dollar bottles for a company of 8 dudes usually do that), then like the overly aggressive douchebags (not unlike those carefully depicted in cinematographic Golden Globe nominated masterpiece – “Jersey Shore”) and depending if they got their asses handed to them or not in the process, it usually goes to a toilet hugging session, tears, yelling and the almighty “bros before hoes” tongue splitting conversations with their counterparts in a vomit-induced aroma.
Ladies getting sauced on the other hand, is always a classic scene; sometimes with unbelievable outcomes. Mind you phones flying, fights starting and further public restroom unrest all provide great observational humor; it’s the attitude change that truly stands out and deserves more of our attention.
If you’re a fairly frequent club goer (as unfortunately yours truly is), you will agree (ladies reading this too), there is always that one seemingly unattainable beauty in the beginning of the night who gives everybody a stink-eye, acts like a complete arrogant bitch, who is viciously typing to her prince gym-rat charming on her phone and who is obviously in a committed relationship.
The transformation is rather spectacular as the drinks keep pouring and the beats keep flowing (if you believe modern music “flows” anyway). A man will never know if it’s a text message gone wrong or just the “real me” shows up but the pedestal hottie suddenly turns from an angel to a creature so despicable and so far more attainable that re-reading Shakespeare to find answers seems the only option. Her behavior turns not only those around her but also even those who have no business in being there, simply off. YES. Even the horndog-variants from Criminal Minds are not finding anything worth-strangling in her anymore.
But yours truly always looks on the brighter side of life; until the morning that is. When the realization kicks in, that I’m at somebody else’s place, with an unknown breathing body beside me in bed, thats when the mild-desperation and a light case of paranoia sets in. I mean who the fuck from the two of us had more to drink?!
After the breathtakingly awkward breakfast, which obviously included a conversation that involved some kind of a memory-gathering runaround regarding each-others’ names; the always uplifting “what do you like to do?” conversation took place. It is precisely during this conversation that both parties involved (at least I did) decide that THIS particular relationship has duly ran its course and that the only way back is IF we met each other in the same hazy circumstances again.
To be honest don’t really know why this story came up in my mind. I do feel some “regret-like” feelings, but not really sure what about. Living a life with regrets is probably each person’s worst nightmare and especially if that person has something inside their skull that resembles a normally functioning brain matter.
The question that remains is obviously whether or not the night was a result of something more than alcohol-infused platonic animal instincts?
I believe to all the readers – this question is much too rhetorical.