I Don’t Drink… Except When I Do

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There’s a thought that keeps cycling it’s way through my head today, Reader.  I have mentioned before that I have recently read the Scott Pilgrim books, and one thing that I noticed through out all of them, is that he’d always say, “I don’t drink”, but then you’d see him drinking.  It’s strange, though, because every time he said he didn’t drink – I forgot that he did drink.  How is this at all relevant to life? I don’t really think it is… except in that I am moderately hungover at the moment, but I don’t drink.  Except I guess I do.

But I don’t really.

I didn’t start off my day yesterday planning on getting drunk.  I didn’t even start off my day planning to drink.  There were plans of school and of running, and of meeting a friend up for lunch.  Well, by the time the “meeting up for lunch” portion of my afternoon came around, a few things had happened.  Firstly, school – a constant irritant and source of misery in my life – had gotten to me once again.  I now find myself wondering on a daily basis what the hell I’m doing.  I don’t want to be a psychologist, do I? I had bigger dreams than that, I think.  I don’t remember them now.  The Second did everything he could to stamp out any real aspirations I had for my future by trying to mold me to fit his. He wanted: Terin+degree=riches. I wanted: Terin+passion=happiness.  I still want that, but time’s ticking away… and I still find myself alone in cold classrooms, wondering if all this is for me.  I want to be educated.  I want to know things.  I want to know everything… but why does it have to be channeled in to a career?

Anyhow, yesterday was one of those days – and that was only the “firstly”.  I think I set up the “secondly” to be worse with that statement, but it’s not.  Secondly, it was so hot yesterday that I melted during my run.  I melted and was dead. Eventually a kind samaritan came along and funneled me in to an empty water bottle he happened to have with him, and sometime later I was alive again and taking a shower. Sometime even later than that, I was sitting in a booth across from my friend staring down at a menu of which nothing looked appealing.  Cue flashback to cold classrooms and textbooks.

“Friend,” I started.  She looked at me, bright blue eyes shining as always.  “Do you want to get a drink instead?”

The blonde’s eyes laughed even before she did, and the wide smile on her face said “Yes!” before she spoke the word herself.

Sometime after that (and, also, after buying a super cute pair of boots), Friend and I were sharing drinks and tales of woe.  Also tales of extreme hilarity.  It was around 5 by then, and I was gone.  I knew I was gone.  I know nothing of drinking etiquette, but apparently 5 in the evening is not the most classy time of the day to be drunk during, and I don’t think I scored myself any points with the other patrons at the restaurant.  I also didn’t care, Reader.  I was drunk.  Cue embarrassing and over affectionate text messaging to Boyfriend Scott.

Somehow, though, Friend and I found ourselves braving the Sepulveda Pass on our way to Boyfriend Scott’s apartment, forever miles away from where our initial adventure started, for dinner and more drinks.  Which, when we found ourselves there a million days later (more like an hour, probably), we had.  Boyfriend Scott made Friend and I some amaretto sours, and then we all headed out on an adventure down Ventura Blvd for some food.  I think someone just pointed somewhere random and said, “let’s eat there”.  So we did eat there.  “There” was a very pleasant vegan restaurant (which I’ll be writing a review for on Yelp sometime in the future), and “There” had some very delicious vegan wanton soup.  I was pleased, overall, with the state of my night.

Saying goodbye to Boyfriend Scott later was kind of hard which, even in my still semi-drunken haze, scared me a little.  However, he said something to Friend as I hugged him that pretty much sent any unhappy thought or feeling away from me…

“Thank you for bringing my Terin up to see me.”

The strange and awful headache I endured later, the weird stupor I’m experiencing now, the mild embarrassment at having been stupidly drunk? All worth it to hear him say that. I kind of love this guy.

But then, you probably already knew that.

Until next time.

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