Vodka and Choke

Excuse the quality of this blog as I have just woken up with a thunderous head, achy eyes and a throat and tongue so dry it makes me wonder whether I decided to drink sand rather than copious amounts of alcohol last night.

Saturday night out for T.M’s birthday promised to be an event not to be missed – with S.M.J playing tasty dubstep, a room full of attractive people and a few over 18s bands, alcohol was steadily consumed by all. 9PM and I arrive, looking what I suppose is fairly plain but also quite nice, in a new cream dress and heels – albeit to a sneaky bottle of vodka stashed down my tights.

Cut to 2AM and you’ll meet a different girl; soggy footed and carrying my shoes, wrapped in a stolen floor matt from some sort of cupboard, my new cream dress now carrying some interesting black marks from where I’ve given up all hope of getting home and just sat on the curb. Hobbling across the streets of Shepperton and Sunbury, F.B and I have what I thought was a deep and meaningful conversation – in retrospect we talked about Tumblr, 4Chan and who was more ‘indie’.

Thinking back over the night, it’s easy to see when a more sober and rational version of myself would have come in handy. On seeing friends, who will doubtlessly regret it, engaging in a face-sucking session, my immediate reaction was ‘WHHHEYYYYY’, rather than whisking someone away before the heartbreak and disappointment. And when introduced to a friend’s boyfriend for the first time, I’m baffled as to why I thought it was a good idea to sit throwing crisps in her hair and giggling, whilst he glared daggers at me from across the table. I’m equally baffled as to why I thought it was comforting to tell a sad friend all about how much I fancied my boyfriend before he asked me out, or how I once saw a guy she thought was attractive, throwing up everywhere at some other party. I can only thank my busted-up Blackberry for dying halfway through the night, as it saved me from sending embarrassing ‘I1 looeve youuo sow musndch’ texts to E.B, and meant my poor father only had to receive one ‘I’m not coming home yet, see ya tomorrow’, slurred phonecall.

I didn’t mean to end up like this, I honestly didn’t. I just have that awful mindset of ‘oh, one more won’t hurt’, and ‘oh well, might as well have another, keep up with everyone else’, not realising that YES, one more WILL hurt, perhaps not now, but in the morning or when I next check how much money I spent, this one will definitely hurt.
So it is for the sake of my health, mind, clothes and purse that I have chosen to not drink for the whole of November. Amongst other things, abstaining from alcohol for a month is hopefully going to make me feel better about my life. And even if it doesn’t, I’ll have saved my liver some work. I love the flabbergasted reaction everyone seems to have to my choice – ‘not DRINKING?! But what about all the 18ths?’. Well, I suppose I will just have to celebrate the fact you can vote, smoke, get properly arrested, get into clubs, gamble, marry without your parents knowing...