I’m a control freak most of the time. I’m not a type A control freak. I value and encourage spontaneity. Really, the things I want to control are the things I can’t: love, life, opportunities, etc… In these areas I like to know where I’m going and what I’m doing. I think it’s a defense mechanism to be honest. If I know how things will result, than I can avoid pain. Pain my greatest teacher, pain my greatest enemy. Obviously, this never works, pain in life is inevitable and a lot of the times unavoidable. Over the years, I have learned to let go little by little, but there are many layers to this onion and I’m always surprised to discover how much being in control plays into the many different areas of my life. So, it makes sense why being drunk is not for me.
Last night was my 28th birthday. I decided that I was going to let loose and have fun. I went to an art festival, had dinner, saw a comedy show and then finished the night with drinks at a jazz lounge. Now, usually when I go out I limit myself to one drink. I didn’t even have my first full drink until I was 27. Why you ask? I don’t really care for the taste of most alcohol and the first time I actually finished a drink was because I finally found one I did like. That opened the door, but only a crack. I really had no desire to push the envelope or try and discover my limit by leaping twenty steps over it. Nothing about getting drunk appealed to me. The losing control, getting sick, making an ass of yourself, the day after, etc…
I’ve heard all the arguments for getting wasted and there all idiotic. People don’t want to admit it’s escapism because that’s weakness, so they make other claims. “It relaxes me”- Newsflash, you were relaxed five drinks ago, so if relaxation was your only reasoning, then why you didn’t stop? “It’s fun!”- This one is my favorite because of the aforementioned negative affects of drinking. What is so fun about that? Not to mention, that if you need alcohol to have fun, than you must be really boring. I know this because I experienced getting drunk last night and it’s like having an outer body episode. So, in order for you to have “fun” you have to practically remove yourself from yourself? Right.
This is my one and only drunk story. First off, I’m naive. I was so sure I was fine, stable even. The problem is I had never even been around a drunk person before, so I had no frame of reference for when enough was enough. I only had movies for my guide, and in movies it takes 30 shots before someone got wasted, not 2, which is how many I had. 2 shots and 1 drink and I was unsteadily walking to the bathroom, laughing one minute and crying the next. Let’s not even get into the unusual affection I was showing some of my friends, petting them, grabbing their faces and telling them I loved them. I had no control over my body and no control over my emotions and I did not like that.
Here is the thing, you don’t know when you’ve had enough until you’ve had too much. My friends warned me, in the moment, that it was going to hit me all at once. There was no previous knowledge of this; and I had felt nothing up until that point. Then suddenly I’m resting my head on my friend’s shoulder, because I felt like a bobble doll, saying, and I quote, “My head is heavy.”
The after affects of being drunk, when you never have, are awful. Guilt, headache, dehydration, guilt, identity crisis, etc… Guilt. All in all, it’s not for me. I’m the booknerd, the knitter, the Golden Girls watcher, not the Girls Gone Wild candidate. So, one drink is my limit. End of Story.