A sliver of sunlight dances across your face as you come out of a sleepy haze. Your head is pounding slightly and your mouth is dry. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol permeate the room. You roll over, and one thought races through your mind like a bullet train:
‘Who the HELL is THIS??’
Uh oh
.
You quickly survey the room, and realize that it is only familiar to you the way 1969 is familiar to a pothead. Fuzzy remembrances of bumping into the dresser as you took your shoes off, or the pile of stuffed animals you made as you fumbled towards the bed. You most decidedly messed up.
If it isn’t your room, you scramble to put your clothes on before the snoring stranger wakes up. Mentally, you’re already kicking yourself for what you’ve done.
If it is your room, maybe you pretend to fall back asleep, and throw an elbow at the part-time-lover, praying that they get up and leave without trying to kiss you.
The bad, drunken hook up. Most often, it lasts a night. Sometimes, it can last up to years. We all have some friend(s) who actually tried to date someone they randomly met and hooked up with. A futile effort at best, considering the fact that all you ever had in common was the fact that you were horny. And if that’s the only requirement for a successful relationship, I’d have so many wives I’d have to become a Mormon. Besides, do you really want to tell you parents THAT story when they meet the future daughter/son-in-law?
So, we were hanging out at the Purple Onion, and I saw her across the pool table. Three shots later, we were making out in the bathroom. One more beer, and I knew it was true love.’
Don’t get me wrong, though. There are times, however rare, when there is a pre-existing attraction that alcohol may help along - that person you’ve been longing to talk to. That opposite-sex friend you’ve been dying to kiss. Sometimes, it’s just the catalyst you needed to do shed your inhibitions. And in those cases, alcohol acts less as ‘stupid juice,’ and more like ‘liquid courage.’
But who are we kidding? Most times (like those 4 years we call college), it’s ‘stupid juice.’
So how does it happen? Did your wingman let you down? Are you the wingman who made the ultimate sacrifice? Were you out drinking alone? Did you just give up? Try any. Or all. Whatever it is, within as little as 2-3 hours, you’re regretting it, and willing to chew your own arm off to get away.
Let’s examine.
OK, the first example, once again, is a buddy of mine who once said, before a night of debauchery: ‘I’m hooking up tonight, no matter what. Don’t stop me.’ As his wingmen, we couldn’t just allow him to go home with anyone. As his friends, we were obliged to honor his request. Needless to say, he woke up to something most unsavory, and 4 years later, we still pick on him for it. And yes, guys, this hook-up was so bad that he couldn’t find ANY value in it. None. If it were golf, he would have taken a mulligan. But if you just want a guy or girl to kiss, and maybe a little more, you could be asking for trouble.
Then there are the guys and gals who are such good wingmen that they end up sitting on some couch in some under-decorated living room, next to a person they hardly know, and hardly want to know, while their ‘flight commander’ is upstairs bumping uglies. I’ve DEFINITELY been there. You’re his friend. She’s her friend. Maybe you’re not attractive. Maybe the other person isn’t. But there is the great equalizer: you’re both drunk. You’re both aware that sexual things are going on right above your heads. You’ve both got nothing better to do. So, you go for it. But you have to be careful. This can blow up in your face. Sometimes, they could just be talking upstairs. Meanwhile, you’re getting hot and heavy with Chaka the Ape Boy. Nothing worse than wasting energy on a bad hook up. In the wingman metaphor, it’s like firing missiles after the rest of the squadron has finished up and headed home.
Drinking alone. Tsk, tsk. This is just sad and pathetic. And usually, that’s why you end up drinking alone. Your gal or guy dumped you. Your friends have no time for you. Your parents aren’t home to talk to. So you decide to go full-blown blotto. And then, the radar of every skanky person in the room springs to life. Hey, even an easy target is still a target. And what happens? You get up the next morning, feeling even worse.
Then there are the people who just don’t care. The low-self-esteem, I’ll-hook-up-with-anyone-and-bitch-about-it-the-next-day types. The ones who care more about how many people they score with than anything. We like to call these people LOSERS.
Sometimes, your instincts kick in at just the right time, and you regain your self respect. Then you run. It’s weird. You just snap out of it, like a bad dream. I’ve been known to say out loud: ‘What the hell am I doing?’
Sometimes, we’re just stupid. Sometimes we laugh at it. Sometimes we cringe the next time we see that person. Sometimes we close our eyes and hope they disappear. Sometimes we swear we’ll never do it again. Sometimes you learn your lesson…
And sometimes, you end up right back where you started -- crawling around, hung over at 5:30 am, trying to find your underwear.
