Well, it happened again. I blacked out. Remember when I blacked out last time, a few weeks ago? Great. I don’t either. But last night was bound to happen. Written in the stars, even. I can deny it all I want — try to convince myself that it was only for a few minutes — but we all know what happened here. I was gone for a long period of time, and it’s only now, the morning after, that I can begin to piece together my evening.
Let’s start with what I do remember. I was at a bar. Then I was not. I took the wrong train home. I was very emotional about how cold it was outside. At one point I may have peed on the sidewalk. I wish this list were longer, but that’s all I got. I find that when you’re out having fun, it’s sometimes better to not get bogged down in actually remembering things. It’s draining, really. And I don’t see why anyone would want to. Uncovering what you did the previous night is sort of like a treasure hunt.
The first place I like to look is my phone. Who had the honor of receiving my drunk texts last night? And I don’t mean one text here, one there. I mean conversations. Long conversations about nothing with people who, while probably concerned, are also (hopefully) enjoying the entertainment I’m providing. My favorite message from last night is “on my way. home bike from hoagie.” I mean, we were all thinking it, right? I’m glad I finally had the balls to say it. When my friend responded “What?”, I’m sure he was really just too taken with the beauty of my words to formulate an actual response. I think what he meant to say was “What? Why didn’t I think of that!?”
Let’s refocus. Did I close my tab at the bar? Unclear. The next place to look — my pockets. All of the pockets. And my credit card better be in one of them. It is! Good. There are also many receipts for beverages. How, exactly, does one consume so many beverages? This, of course, I will blame on my friends. Can you just, I don’t know, cut me off at some point? Tell me to stop? Remind me of how fat this is going to make me? I know that’s completely unfair, and I understand it’s my responsibility, but I’ll comfort myself with this thought. Okay, I feel better already.
I think I’ll also feel better if I text some people. Just say hi. See what their plans are for the day. I’ll pretend I’m interested in whatever they say and then, once they’re engaged, I’ll hit them with it: What the fuck did I do last night? I see in our text history that I left while you were in the bathroom? I literally left you alone in the bar with zero explanation. I’m a horrible friend. I get it. But why? Why do I do this? And more importantly, why do you still go out with me when this outcome is always a very real possibility? You deserve an award for your bravery. Maybe several awards. Maybe all of them.
I hope this doesn’t happen again anytime soon. Or ever. And I can tell you it won’t. Promise you, even. Promise you I’ll never even approach blacking out again. But how likely do we really think that is? There are really too many memories left to be made by not remembering anything at all. And sometimes, those are the best kind.