Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.
Today I will be telling you of a very dark time in my life. I was in college. I had gone to school, and my then boyfriend followed me. I tried to dissuade that by being a complete bitch the summer before getting to school. I cannot tell you HOW I came to this conclusion, but I was convinced that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this guy, but didn't want him to hamper my sowing of wild oats at school. And so I went to college, seemingly unencumbered by a high school boyfriend. I saw other people, and eventually so did he, we also occasionally saw each other. Also, we had lots of mutual friends. We were all geeks into Anime, D&D, UNIX BBs, and other generally really geeky things. We had found our niche in college, away from the muscle headed geek beaters of HS, so were were pretty happy. Oh, and I'd dated J for about a year at the point when we arrived at college. At the time of this event, he had just started a new relationship and I was unhappily not seeing anyone. We were at a party at the house occupied by many of our friends. When J arrived with his new girlfriend, I started drinking. I drank a 750ml bottle of 151, chased by a can of Coca Cola. After about half of the bottle, I blacked out. I woke up on my bed, face down, trash can below my face. When I pieced it all together, it appears I did drink all of the rum and coke. I also played chase with some friends around the house, culminating in my jumping out of the kitchen window, taking the screen with me. I jumped up and danced some more. My night ended when they found me in the middle of the street screaming at the top of my lungs, some slurred version of "Blister In The Sun". Two of the people there drove me home, and dumped me into my bed. The hangover was bad, my mood was bad, and I actually considered taking my own life. Until a little voice inside told me that I was being a stupid teenager, and that I was going to let someone else's behavior dictate my life? Oh, PLEASE! I was (and am) stronger than that, much stronger. I cried for days, but I got over it. I moved on, and so did J. I've actually only told one other person this story, and that is my husband. It has caused him to hate J with a white hot passion, and threaten him (although J lives across the country, and likely has NO clue that any of this occurred). I hold no hatred toward anyone (really), and I hope he is happy, much like I hope all of you are happy and healthy.
And for this Wednesday, now that it is running through my head: