I was going to write a post about my move to San Francisco, but the only parts of it that were worth mentioning led to what this post is really about. Just know that I'm alive and appreciate the efforts of a certain few to make me less suicidal.
Anyway, as I was riding the bus to work today (I know, they make you ride buses in San Francisco; they assure you it's a privilege versus evidence that you should've tried harder in school.), I thought back to a story I heard over the weekend.
A few weeks ago, I went to a party and met a bunch of new people. That's literally all I could say about the night because I vaguely recall anything specific minus some bombass Korean food at 2am.
The story I heard was that I had carried these lengthy conversations, had been slightly confrontational, and at times, a bit shamelessly forward. (I'm leaving it vague intentionally.) I was shocked. I don't remember any of that. And sadly, I couldn't deny that it could've happened.
Then I thought back to another night where again, nothing. Can't remember a thing. I remember eating a bunch of red velvet cake pops and that's about it. I couldn't tell you who I met and what I said. Nope.
Why? When did this start happening? I'm pretty sure this is new.
Then it clicked.
The thing is, my whiskey drinking is recent. I believe that just like the brands you transition into over time, alcohol is the same way. You know, Kate Spade in high school, LV in college, Gucci post-college, Chanel post-business school, Hermes post-business school job. Right? Yes.
So to remind myself of what happens to me when I drink, here is a cheat sheet. It may be different for each person, so give it a thought yourself.
Newfound courage to dance like a Korean popstar and party till 5am. Taking shots of this is your rite of passage into alcoholism. It's a gateway drink. Clean buzz, no hangover, but once you fight with this bitch, you guys will never be friends again.
Rum and other weird shit (24)
A warp into a land where you're always on vacation, and everyone is your friend so you come home with a bunch of pictures with random people. Super sweet, high calorie sugar bombs. It's okay though because you're young and have the metabolism of a 6-year-old and have this firm belief that you'll always be skinny.
Three things can happen: (1) aggro-angry, will fight you and your dumbass boyfriend, crazy, (2) super emotional, life is so hard, ugly cry, or (3) really chill, in tact memory, and a good time. It's a risky gamble, but you always start the night hoping for the best. Easy to drink, low calorie. After awhile, your high tolerance and the fact that it tastes like nothing makes the whole experience boring.
Non-stop verbal diarrhea with this uncanny ability to shamelessly say things that may be true, but you have no idea because you can't remember what you said. Black out, or brown out if you had someone drink half your drinks for you. As you drink more of it, you learn that the good stuff actually taste much different than the mediocre stuff - which encourages you to keep drinking, and thus this has less chance of getting boring.
Dilemma, my friends. I'm starting to only want to drink whiskey. So what do I do? Hope that blacked out Connie will be responsible enough to not thoroughly embarrass herself so that sober Connie doesn't have to sit and wonder if she should shutdown her Facebook?
To be determined.