Last night did not go at all according to plan.
It was a lovely afternoon. My dear friend and I took a relaxed mosey through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, enjoying the wonderfully curated exhibits on Prada, a history of photographic nudes, and of course, ye olde paintings of creepy children. I had such a great time.
As we wrappedd up, I suggested we grab a drink to cap off our day. Agreeing that something frozen and refreshing would hit the spot on such a hot day, we popped into a Mexican restaurant around the corner from my apartment, and each of us ordered a frozen margarita. As it always does with my friend, conversation flowed easily and we enjoyed relaxing and catching up on the finer points of each other's lives. Another round was ordered.
And then I think I might have died.
I vaguely remember paying the bill. Putting her in a cab, waddling back to my apartment. It was only about 7:30pm, and still quite light out. I said hi to my beloved roommate, who had just returned from a week away.
Then I woke up in my room, wearing the same clothes I'd been in all day, at 2am. My stomach sloshed, my throat burned, and I'm pretty sure I could feel my brain rattling around my skull.
What. The. Fuck. I am damn near 30 years old (as this blog exists to tell you.) 2 drinks and I die? Granted, I obviously didn't have enough food in my stomach, but this is horrendous. I'm sitting at my desk this morning praying I don't projectile vomit onto the computer screen. I am nursing green tea and rapidly blinking my eyes in hopes they don't fall out of their sockets. I gnawed at a bagel and have struggled to ingest a great amount of water and ibuprofen.
How did I get like this? I used to be a beast. I used to keep up with the boys. I....I...can't anymore. I'm too old for this shit, and I should know better. And like anyone who has ever woken up feeling as miserable as I currently do, I am taking a hard look at what role drinking plays in my life, and if it really needs to be there at all.
I am a social drinker. I'd say on average, I likely consume 2-3 alcoholic beverages a week. Back in school, that was a LOT more, but having watched several loved ones struggle with alcohol consumption, I scaled back significantly. Alcohol has fueled some seriously fun and amazing nights of my life, but at the same time it has poorly influenced my decisions, and been the catalyst for situations and behaviors I deeply and truly regret.
What would a life without alcohol be like? Fine, I think. It's not like I'd be suddenly anti-drinking. I'd still go to bars, and have a soda instead. My decision would be strictly for myself, and not a judgement against others. I'd probably lose a few pounds, and save some money. Would my social life suffer? Would dates think I'm no fun, some kind of prude? I don't know. Aren't there some situations where you'd really just like to have a beer in your system? Just to make life a little more tolerable, a little less awkward? I don't know.
So here is my challenge to self. For the next three months, should I drink, it will only be beer, and three maximum. No hard alcohol or wine. I think that's what really mucks me up. And yes, this applies to my birthday as well.
I'm not sure I'll make this challenge, but I think it is an experiment worth trying.
