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May 18, 2009
It's true. I'd always loved sex and never had a problem with casual relationships, but I didn't start drinking, really drinking, until after college. Before then, I could take it or leave it. I didn't like the calories, the awkwardness of navigating the bar scene with a fake ID, the expense. When I was twenty-two, I briefly thought I had found something with coke, but I didn't like the way it made me hyper-aware, made sex so pointed and almost clinically concentrated. I hated the long, slow coming down, especially after sex, when all I wanted to do was be alone. When I graduated college, it became normal to go two or three weeks without having a night off, to call my cubemate to cover for me when I woke up in a mysterious apartment, hung over with yesterday's clothes askew on the floor. It was exciting, hazy, and made me feel like I had been catapulted into a bohemian-girl lifestyle I'd always wanted. But while my friends eventually stopped drunken exploits in favor of boyfriends and career moves, or on the advice of their therapists, I was still getting drunk and hooking up. I know it's stupid. After more than a few close calls, I know that I'm more than flirting with danger, which I've tried to mitigate by only getting that drunk with people I sort of know — friends of friends or people I meet at parties or people who are already my Facebook friends. Which, of course, brings up its own set of problems — like the time I slept with the photographer of my brother's wedding the night of the rehearsal dinner and then couldn't look at him — or the camera — during the actual wedding. But unlike most people, I love drunken hookups — the predictable move from hazy to blackout, followed by the lightning-quick recollection of moments from the night before, capped off with a sticky-brained hangover that makes me feel like I've done something gross and illicit and dangerous and, however perversely, enlivening.
In my daytime life, I'm typical — ambitious, even. I have a job and a to-do list of volunteering obligations and yoga classes and to go out means that I'm actually taking a night off from all of it. And that's partially why when I go out, I feel I should go all out. I feel like I deserve it. I feel like I work hard all the time and am always trying to impress people and maybe I want you to see me in my worst state as soon as possible so we can just get it over with and move on. I think maybe, deep down, I want to find a man who'll love me even if he's seen me pee on myself. It hasn't happened yet. Which is why I've been trying to drink less and date more. In fact, the last drunk hookup I had before you was last summer, with a guy I met at a friend of a friend's birthday party. I remember waking up to his alarm, taking in the unfamiliar room, the weak sunlight through the window, and just feeling exhausted. I'd been beginning to get the sense that these were my last moments to have wild, drunken nights out before it became truly sad, before I'd reach the no-man's land between the just-legal girls with hipbones rising above the waistband of their jeans ordering lemon-drop shots in groups at the bar, and the sad, scattered women who sit and drink vodka gimlets with far too much determination, the ones who don't even try to pretend they're waiting for a friend. After all, there are only so many times I can play out the same scenario without it seeming a cliché, an endless loop of bad judgment. Still, I tried to make the morning seem more of a romantic comedy than existential crisis. "I bet you don't even know my name," I said, trying to be cool and flirtatious as I struggled awake. In truth, I was just hoping he'd give me his name. "Annabelle!" he exclaimed. "Yup," I smiled. It's not. It's a name that only comes out after a few cocktails — or, in this case, four mojitos, two beers and three shots. But Annabelle nights are usually fun. I tend to act imperious, self-possessed, fearless about what I want. Now that I had the context, bits and pieces of the night come back to me: I remembered a cab and making out and his hand crawling up my thigh.
     
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Commentarium (28 Comments)
What a repugnantly self-loathing way to live. I really hope this is fiction.
I think it's sad and very, very honest. And I bet there are a lot of other women who've done this at various stages of their lives. hopefully, the writer is in a better place now.
I totally understand. Although for me, the morning after always sucks, but like a moth to the flame .....
lovely piece. and good that you are modulating. cyclical behavior is the enemy, keep it fresh.
I really loved your story.. very clever, funny & cute. I get the, if he will love me as a drunken mess theme.. But unfortunately people (men), are not that smart & are very judgmental.. its typically a woman, who would love a drunken, coke head.. & see so much potential in him.. that was me.. I want more of a man than his party face.. and trust me, so did the guy's who went out with you..
your awesome for righting this article I loved it
LRR
beautiful! I can totally relate...
We should trade tales of interest over a few drinks...
Can you send me your contact info? I'd like to take you out for a drink...
A good thread of life, fiction or otherwise. Although, this one might need to be pulled before the fabric completely unravels. One last toast and then...One last toast and then...
this is amazing. i just want you to know. you are courageous and brutally honest to be able to understand yourself on a level that overrides denial with dignity.
I also once knew someone who had a different name when she was really drunk. My guess is that if your personality changes so much when you drink that you're using a different name to represent that personality, and that name seems to be coming up quite frequently, that you should probably rethink your lifestyle. (By the way, Nerve staff, page 1 seems to be coming up pretty wide in my browser.)
The final paragraph sums it up. My life, written out for me to read, at the hands of someone else. One day we will all see the err of our ways, until then... bartender...
yep, i've been doing this for years. i've come to the sad believe that dating people for 3 months is the best-case scenario b/c they're still the person you want them to be in your head, not the person they really are.
i love drunk hook ups. they are filled with intrigue and randomness and laughter.
yeah, you do it on purpose, and you can quit any time. I hope this is a satirical piece because if not, the author is an addict and possibly has a personality disorder. and the fact she wears designer clothes and goes to yoga class doesn't make it glamorous. it's just as sad and gross. please get help.
Oh. My. God. This is me and I've never seen anyone else like me with the same issue. Thank you
This is most of the pathetic serially single skanks in their 20's and 30's. People wonder why it's so hard to find love, it's because the crutch they use to loosen up socially makes them disgusting people, who wouldn't be disgusting without it ... as this story was stating
you are an alcoholic sweetie...you're not denying it but you haven't reached that jumping off point because living like this is fun for you-for now. this scenario, over and over to the tired age of 38 is what brought me to the cross roads and a church basement, hating it ever step of the way.
three year later, sober, happy and still horny===I'm finding out hot random sex, sober, is for grown ups, the shit you're pulling is for kids.
saving a seat for you...
26 - young professional female - could have written the piece myself. except for the peeing.
Bell
porque es acerca de la alegr
As I found out for myself, there are literally thousands of stories JUST like yours in every AA meeting in the world. If you ever ask yourself "Am I an alcoholic?" the answer is YEP. People without an issue with alcohol/other substances never ask that question. Hope you can get off that merry-go-round sooner rather than later--you can have a life..
You've got an excellent writing style and you definitely touched a nerve with me. You should consider a follow up if you make any progress there.
Lady, listen from someone who knows. Slut-Fu, or "The Way of the Drunken Ho-bag" is not something you want to continue just because it feels comfortable. Yes it's a hundred times easier than having a relationship. But that's because meaningless sex is basically robbing you of real life.
There's a reason people form lasting, loving relationships and don't just sleep with anybody they meet at the bar. They are rewarding. There is no reward in drunken hook-ups other than successfully pushing down the innate natural desire to want to make a connection with someone. Because that's *hard*. It's *easy* just to have a fling and make that your "mini-relationship". You put your time and energy and emotion into having some laughs and enjoying the pure sexual energy and freedom you find in the arms of a stranger who desires you, but does not care for you. When you find someone you can love, and that can love you back.... that's it, girl. That's all she wrote. You won't want anything else. But you can't sabotage yourself each night in a drunken stupor and expect to find it.
It took the help of my friends showing me how little respect they had for what I was doing for me to start to question my role. I thought everything was going fine. I thought it was just natural to hook up again, and again, and again, ... Well let me tell you there's some serious social stigma associated with it, even amongst other men. Once I really thought about it, I realized the reason I would just hook up without even liking these girls was that 1. it was easy and 2. I didn't have to think about how hard it would be to find a girl who I could really care for. After that I had a few friends with benefits, and once it was obvious they ran it's course i'd give myself a break again. Eventually the urge would creep up again. But it's so much better taking your time and finding someone you can spend your time with and really enjoy it. Life is too short to waste your time with "just sex".
I really enjoy your writing, how you blend foggy recollections of the experience with razor-sharp observations of your issues. What courage and growth I see between your college days writing and this note. I recall how terrified I have been before a dreaded encounter and how the bourbon helped me get out the door. But now at times, your buzz is from running or coffee and you make it through. Please continue to share at least an occasional observation on these issues as it may help us both understand our journey a bit better.
I've always shyed away from hookups. Not that I don't want to but because it seems like a great way to cut out any emotional contact. I think you'll have a much more intense orgasm if you let your emotions be a part. Its hard, its scary, and it can heart your heart A LOT but its worth it.
Good writing. I liked this article a lot.
That was great, im the same way, im just trying to find someone to love me drunk or not
OMG this is so amazing. I totally love this story and your positive outlook on life!!! it is motivation to us office drones, monday to friday!