Dear Drunk Girl,
Look, miss, I’ll put up with a lot.
I mean, entirely too much, really.
Like, when you started slumping over and using my shoulder as a glorified head rest and drool receptacle?
Wasn’t happy, but I let it happen.
When it came time to split the fare?
I said, “don’t worry about it, I got this one. Just get some rest.”
Or how about when you forgot your phone at the bar and I, a complete stranger to you, had to get the driver to turn the cab around and I had to run inside to grab your phone for you?
Not a highlight of mine, but happy to do it.
Still, when we got to your place to drop you off and the guy I was with got out of the front seat so he could sit in back with me… well, do you remember what happened there?
Yeah, ya grabbed his ass.
I’m fine with a lot, especially when it comes to drunk folks, but that is not your ass to grab.
That is my ass to grab, got it? Got it?!?
SO you best check yourself, before you- well, you know the rest.
Dear Lady Who Wanted A Beer When I Was Left Alone at the Bar,
Sorry it took me so long. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if I was technically allowed to serve you. North Carolina has weird liquor laws. I don’t quite get ‘em, but I figured it was better safe than sorry. By the time I got the beer, I couldn’t find a bottle opener. Luckily, you seemed pretty wasted… Why do I say that? Well, as I took forever, you kept telling me how adorable I was… and asked me if I was single. I’m used to people being kinda weird. I mean, hell, just, like, 15 minutes earlier, a guy tried to put his hands down my pants… at least you were kinda classy about it. But when you jiggled my stomach? That got pretty weird. So maybe we could skip you touching my stomach during our next social interaction? Please and thank you?
Really glad we had that bonding time yesterday.
Okay, the discussion of “A-rabs” and guns was a little uncomfortable… but you seem nice.
Oh, and the “let’s kill Obama” thing was a little rough too.
Yet, through all of that, you really do seem nice. Okay, yes, I was drunk… but still there’s a chance we’ll get along once I sober up, right?
Ya know what? Don’t ruin this for me, I wanna be surprised.
I know it isn’t customary to deal with drunken employees, but- well, it was my day off.
I was planning on just being drunk at home, but Karl needed a walk…
Look, I know I didn’t technically do anything wrong, but I still feel like a dick. Sorry ’bout that.
Dear Drinkers of America,
Anybody know any good two person drinking games? Cuz “Never Have I Ever” gets super lame super fast. But it does get you pretty drunk…
Get at me, bro.
I don’t know if I was just drunk, but thank you for bringing your greasy, greasy A-game last night.
It’s what made waking up still kinda drunk at 5:30 AM totally bearable.
We’ve been through a lot together.
Family dinners. Boring grad classes (I want you to know, even though I had to hide you in a thermos, I was never ashamed of you). Parties.
We’ve really been through it all.
I’m not sure I ever took the time to thank you.
So, thank you. Thank you for making my dad less passive-aggressive, making my professors less tedious, and making that one guy I hooked up look kinda cute… at least in party lighting.
You’ve been with me for years, and I’d like to toast to our many years to come… but it’s 8 AM so maybe I should just toast with my orange juice? Eh, one glass couldn’t hurt… for old time’s sake.
Dear Drunk Me,
Well, I don’t think so, but hungover me does.
Last night, I may have had a drink or two… normally that’s just an expression, but seriously, I swear, it was just two.
Granted, I had them on an empty stomach, which may explain their effect on me… but anyways, Internet, I just wanted to take a moment to apologize.
For the tweets, the countless memes, the innumerable YouTube videos, and all the rest. See, it only happens when I’m drunk but last night was definitely what I like to call “an internet bender.” You know how folks go, like, balls to the walls crazy when they drink?
Now, imagine how bat-shit insane it can get with internet access. Misspelled declarations of love, misplaced emotional rants laid out for all those former high school friends to read. Seriously, it doesn’t get much more embarrassing than that.
I think I may be ready to go to Internet AA. Last night might have been my rock bottom.
I’d like to start off my apologizing.
When you asked me if you could have the living room since you were gonna have some folks over from your high school days, I thought, “Eh, it’s his place too, why the hell not?” Even now, that’s still my stance. You have just as much a right to entertain as I do… you just exercise your right, while the most social interaction I have in a given day is with the pizza guy.
See, I don’t know how, but it always slips my mind that your high school friends are from back in Alabama.
This is nothing against them or your hometown or anything like that, but well, I always forget that a lot of your friends come from different… political backgrounds than I do.
So when I brought up the original Planet of the Apes being my favorite of the franchise, even with Charleton Heston’s NRA-fanaticism, I should’ve known I would’ve been met with the whole 2nd Amendment argument. I believe his actual words were, “Nah, it’s the 2nd Amendment, it’s in the Constitution, brah!” I quickly steered clear of the topic. Never mind the fact that an AK-47, which some folks are trying to make street legal, has pretty much never been used to protect someone’s home before. Don’t even factor in the sickening number of gun-related deaths in Chicago alone.
The fact of the matter is, I have a compelling argument for why I’m pro-gun control, but after a couple of beers and having just met two of them? It seemed like an inopportune time, so my bad.