I have no idea why, but I’ve been hung over for the majority of days this week. The only thing I can think of to explain this is because I’ve been drunk the majority of nights. I’m pretty sure by most standards I’m not an alcoholic, but I’m not really going to check the standards because if I am an alcoholic it would be best for me to be in denial about it. Because I don’t have time to go to AA meetings and even if I did I would have to get a sponsor and then chances are we would get all close and touchy feely and then I’d feel sicker than I do now, in my hungover state. I hate touchy feely people and topics and things. Public crying puts me on edge and I feel like in the movies all the AA people cry a lot.
In my defense, I’ve not been drunk for many moons – this was just a particularly alcoholic week. I had my WINOS weekend and then yesterday my manager suggested a “meeting” that took place at a bar. And I am a good employee, so of course I obliged, even though secretly I really wanted to update my sales forecast. Right. Anyway, we got to the bar and three (or four?) martinis later, I had the spins. And I have no fucking clue what I said, as usual. But I do recall tears being shed — by her or me, I’m not sure. It must have been bad though, because neither of us has a history of public crying in martini bars. I hope she didn’t fire me and I just don’t even remember. I have a bad feeling like maybe she told me something that was probably not good. Or maybe she got fired? Or maybe I told her something that was not good, because I love her and would want her to know everything I was thinking. And I’m looking for another job and such. Shit. I probably told her that. But maybe she was happy because I just got fired. I have to figure this whole thing out, but I’m feeling awkward about calling her this morning. I’m going to have to start recording my business meetings that take place at bars. That is why I never drink with clients. I might tell some of those guys what douches I think they are.
Anyway, the point is that I’m not off drinking alone somewhere and being the only person trashed. So that is my defense against any charges that might be levied against me for alcoholism. This was a meeting with my boss and it started at three, so I thought I’d be home in time for dinner. But instead I made the 9:30 train home. Six hours worth of conversation is too much for someone to remember, even if sober. Now that I really think about it, I think we have some drunken texts we sent on our respective trains, so I should go back and check if they give away what happened. (UPDATE: just checked. She said on her train the whole car was singing “I wanna touch you all over —til the night closes in…” except her. Does that mean we ended on a bad note? I would’ve totally chimed if such a fantastic thing had happened in my train car.)
Anyway, so I got home and BD was still up and I think I must be really super sexy when I’m trashed in my business casual kitten heels because I think I remember he wanted to get it on and I had the spins. And I’m sorry, but sex with the spins is the worst. So I had to tell him “Not now, honey. I’m too drunk to have sex. Will you make me a pizza?” I think he said no, so I went about making my own. We’re never without a frozen pizza. Sweet, sweet frozen pizza. Maybe if he would have thought ahead to have a pizza waiting for me when I got home, he would have had more luck getting me in bed. I guess being home with the kids and giving them dinner and putting them to bed and stuff and waiting for his trashed wife to return home made him really tired and not thinking about what he could be doing to make my day better. Maybe he’ll take this as a “teaching moment” (thanks, Oprah) and do better next time.
But I laugh I told him I’m too drunk to have sex. Not sure I’ve ever used that excuse. What is better my blog readers? To say you don’t want to have sex because you have a headache, or because you’re too drunk? I thought the whole point of getting drunk in my 20s was in anticipation of having sex later. Now I must be old because drunk pizza eating seemed like such a better alternative than drunk sex last night. I figure it would be more awkward if I passed out or threw up during sex than if I did those things while making and eating a pizza. Right?!
I only have to wait one more hour before McDonalds starts serving lunch. I hope I can make it – its the only antidote for my hangovers. For real – I’m not going to get drunk again for at least three days. Really.