The Five Stages Of Drunk Grief
Denial. During this stage, the drunk in question will complacently argue with any and everyone and, despite being irrevocably wrong, will earnestly believe that they have the firmest grasp on reality for miles. Topics of interest include their ex (“He’s a really good guy, though; he loved me”), useless pop culture factoids (“Magic Johnson was killer in Space Jam – YES IT WAS Magic Johnson, are you some kind of idiot? Shut up, you’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”), and their level of intoxication (“Back up off me, I’m not even that drunk. I’m just ~tipsy~. Deal with it.”)
Anger. Despite soberly describing himself as “a chill dude,” the drinker becomes visibly and easily agitated at this point — and wants everyone to know it. If you’re within twenty feet of the “danger zone,” consider yourself collateral damage. The angry drunk likes to discuss the person who accidentally stepped on their foot (“SHE DID IT ON PURPOSE.”), the bartender (“HE’S IGNORING ME – WAIT, WHAT? DID YOU SEE THAT JUST NOW? HE JUST LOOKED AT ME AND SERVED SOMEONE ELSE. PRICK.”) whoever dare take more than thirty seconds in the bathroom (“WHAT ARE YOU, BLADDERALLY CHALLENGED OR JUST STUPID?”), and their cab driver (“IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING, I WOULDN’T HAVE GOT IN. I WOULD’VE RODE WITH A SMART CAB DRIVER. U SUCK.”)
Bargaining. Perhaps the most pathetic phase, the drunk belligerently tries to reason with the people she’s embarrassing. Common turns of phrase include “Just one more drink before we go home, I’ll pay for yours even,” “If you care about me you’ll let me take this shot,” and “It’s just one text message, I just want to say hi. No, get away from my phone. I’ll let you read it before I send it. For approval. Seriously, let me do it. It’s gonna be fine.”
Depression. Depression unfolds in a number of ways. Could be that the drinker realizes they can’t actually afford to be out drinking, that their ex showed up at the bar for undisclosed reasons, or that they’ve fixated on the idea that they’re going to die alone. A vacant, lazy-eyed stare is textbook in this case, but could also manifest with expressions like, “Well, I’m just gonna drink more. Not like anyone cares about what I’m doing anyway,” or “I don’t want to talk about it but… ” or “I’m walking home alone. Maybe I’ll get mugged or something. No big deal. I deserve it.”
Acceptance. Too exhausted to fight any longer, the drinker succumbs to the pleas/ cries of their chaperone and agrees to quiet down/ quit ranting about their (job/ significant other/ roommates)/ leave the bar. Expressions of defeat include, “You’re right. Yooooou’re right. I’m a drunk slutty asshole. Can we stop at White Castle on the way home?”
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If this doesn’t become the biggest video on the Internet, then I have no faith left in humanity.
I’m about to finish up my sophomore fall of college, and friends from home are getting married and having babies and sufficiently freaking me out.
He was a perfect date. I later got drunk and hacked his phone (who uses their birth year for a password? It was 1986, by the way #teamcougar). What I found was a text to a Kristina explaining his aforementioned sex dream he’d had about her while sleeping next to me in a luxurious hotel bed.
Single people love to whine about being single.