A World of Pure Inebriation

I believe that two whole bottles of inexpensive red wine is the exact recipe for disaster. Personally speaking, I mean. The last time I followed this particular set of instructions, my night ended in a rather messy fashion; literally, figuratively, you name it. When you’re drinking wine and you get to the stage of quaffing rather than sipping, whether or not you notice it, it’s probably too late for you. Too late because earlier in your night the wine stopped tasting like alcohol and started to go down like water. When this happens, you have to make peace with your future hungover self because you’re meeting them in the morning.

This particular occasion was not entirely my own doing. A friend kept slyly topping up my glass, selflessly keeping me well supplied with the increasingly easy drinking crimson nectar. The glass never emptied. How could I possibly have consumed so much wine when I never even refilled my glass? How indeed. By the time I realised what he had been doing, I was too far gone to care. In fact, I found it to be pretty funny (I would not have had I even considered the hangover that had ceased to be a potential and had become a guarantee).

Later that evening, I wound up (as it seems that I do on the occasions when I’ve gotten that sozzled) being quite emotional. I’m a tearful drunk and I just don’t know why. I staggered down the street with my equally inebriated but far less emotional girlfriend (which is funny because when we are sober the tables are most certainly turned) sobbing my eyes out over some perceived injustice or assumed slight. She tried to console me but her patience was wearing thin rapidly. The weirdest thing about this overflowing of the feels is that when it has happened (and I must stress that these inebriated episodes are very rare and only occur after imbibing copious amounts, honest) people always want to ask me things. I can only assume that I don’t look to be a very intimidating figure with tears streaming down and into the matted hair on my face. Usually it’s directions. I just don’t know why people assume that a person in that state is a suitable pathfinder.

I try not to drink that much anymore, anyway. Mostly because I’m not nineteen anymore and am now a sufferer of the full-blown two-day hangover. That is a major part, definitely. The other part is that I just don’t want to give the wrong directions.

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