I’m not upset, far from it. It was an experience and I’ve certainly done things during the past few months that I wouldn’t have done before and maybe I won’t do them again. Maybe I will. But like I said – doomed from the start and there’s certainly no point in crying over spilt cappuccino.
I decided many years ago that I would never drink. I’ve seen some very unpleasant drunks in my life and I had no desire to be one of them. Neither did I have the desire to be so out of my own mind that I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing the night before. I stuck to this decision until three months ago. Then for some reason I thought I want to drink, not get off my face piss-arsed, just try it. I suppose it’s like when people decide that they are never going to be with anyone but the person they lost their virginity to; there is always a wondering of what it might be like with someone else. So I wanted to know what it would be like to go out with my friends and join in with the drinks.
Well I’ve decided I don’t like it. I’ve come to pretty much the same conclusions I’ve had since I was twelve years old and I saw my uncle passed out on my sofa. I don’t need a drink to have fun and I really don’t like feeling like my head doesn’t belong to my body anymore. Sure there are certain things that become easier to do when you’ve had a drink, but perhaps there is a reason I wouldn’t normally do those things and maybe I should be listening to that voice of reason in my mind – she’s a smart girl in there after all.
So from now on it’s just the Bloke Indoors and me, Jack’s way outta the picture and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Oooh and now I don’t have to worry about tripping over my own heels as I walk down the stairs of clubs either! Life is good.