Getting down to brass tacks tonight I went out with my friends, it’s Tuesday and that’s our, rather unusal but customary night to go out; I suppose it’s one of the luxuries of being a student… if I can even call myself that anymore.
Tuesday nights are my nights to cut loose, now I’ll add a bit of clarity to that statement, I’m not one of these people who goes out with a pittence in money and their plastic pal only to wake up in the morning, still drunk, and with a bill that makes suicide look like a valid option. No, I’m the exact opposite end of the spectrum, I go out with a little bit of cash because, despite wine and whiskey being my go too drinks they’re expensive and as such I’m relegated to drinking cider- the small quantity of money is in fact a choice,it’s proportional to the amount of cider I can actually drink.
If you were to sit me down at table on any given night and ply me with an unlimited amount of alcohol and on each night I was given solely cider, wine and whiskey respectively there would be a markedly large difference in the amount of alcohol consumed. With cider I’ve worked my limit out to be about five to six pints and that translates to anywhere between ten and twelve units, however if you sat me down with wine, for example, I could quite contentedly plod through two bottles of red without any complaint from my stomach and that works out to be about eighteen to twenty units.
The difference is startling!
This isn’t to say that I handle my liquor well… I don’t, I’m an absolute lightweight, but I’m a funny drunk, not punchy or sleepy at all – The kind of drunk that just becomes sociable, laughable
and will do unspeakable damage to your toilet. So I suppose there are worse categories that I could fall into.
However this post is about my night out and why it turned out to be a terrible idea.
I suppose I’d been in a bad mood all day, given the greater prevelance of my mini panic attacks and my rather angry ‘rest state’ recently perhaps i should have seen this coming but I still went out. That’s not a bad thing you understand, it’s not, sometimes when you’re feeling a little low and upset what you in fact need is a drink and a laugh with a few good friends. That wasn’t what happened though.
I went out and the more I saw people laughing, smiling and having a good time the more angry I became, completely inverse to my otherwise jovial setting, I felt envious of their care free nature and savagely angry because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to have a good time.
The cider tasted sour, the company felt cold and above all else, I hated myself for not being able to enoy a simple pleasure.
It’s ridiculous I know but it ended up with me, sat for three hours clenching my fists and wishing nothing but the worst upon those who actively care about my well being and were trying to help… what kind of a person does that?
I yelled at one in particular, a good friend who has stood by me through some rough times, he’s not the biggest pal I’ve got, but I value him immensely… I screamed at him, berated him and threatened him… and now I’m writing about it I feel like scum.
Of course I apologized and he said that there was no hard feelings… but it still hurts, I still feel guilty, what kind of an asshole does that to his friends.