This weekend I discovered the truth…
We had planned a night out. Finally. A night to unwind, have fun and even drink some alcohol! We even had no children to go home to, which meant we had a licence to ‘go mad’.
We headed off to a friends house where we were greeted with shots, I spilled half of mine down the sink,( when no one was looking) ..yuck. We drank some whiskey and coke~an old reliable friend of both D and I. The music was playing and the chat was getting louder. We had to meet more friends in the Christmas market for a few ‘hot ones’. After an hour, it was time to leave the safe haven of pouring your own ‘measures’ and eating good ‘ol Taytos!
We walked and talked laughing all the way to a lovely pub, as our other friends informed us that everyone and their sisters were packed into the Christmas market.
Feeling very happy with myself and thanks to D’s generous measurements, I skipped up the steps of the pub, demanding a ‘baby Guiness’, my personal favourite shot! Followed by a JD and coke. The pub began to fill up around us as more and more of our friends popped in; some stayed for just the one while others stayed for the craic and a few more than one. A couple of baby G’s later plus a few more ‘homemade mixed’ whiskey and cokes…I was having a ball. It was this point, this was the point I should have listened to the mini me voice- Ah slow down there Bridie, you’ve had enough, have an ol sup of water now- I should have listened. I didn’t.
Instead, I dragged my poor, poor innocent friend ‘L’ out dancing to cheesy 90’s music, forcing her to dance. L does not dance. Ever. Well, she did on Friday! In fairness, my flash backs indicate I gave her no choice , I would not leave her side until she danced. Oops.
The night pretty much passed in a blur of laughter, camera flashes and baby Guiness’. I love my friend T’s coat, so naturally, I tried to steal it. While telling her, ” I’m gonna steal your coat T, so shhhhh”
Eventually it was time to go home. We shared a cab with two of our friends…that’s pretty much all I recall of that. We got home. I went straight to bed, while D made ‘us’ food, which apparently, was my idea.
I peeled open one eye, the room was spinning, slower than before, but still spinning.My mouth, dry as a desert and fuzzy as a bears arse. I groaned as I crawled, I mean crawled, towards the door. I needed a drink. Needed one now. D was in a snoring slumber, blankets shoved to one side.
As I crawled, praying I wouldn’t be sick, I heard that mini me voice again- I told ya, I
told ya- I moaned as I dragged myself down stairs to the cold water, hoping it would cure me, knowing it wouldn’t.
I stood bare foot in the kitchen, the fridge light shining on me, wearing my dress still, feeling queasy as all hell, when the truth hit me hard and fast.
I am too old for this shit. I am officially too old to be out drinking from 7pm until 3am. I am simply too old. My poor mind and body don’t deserve this. My mini me voice should be acknowledged, I am too old to be ignoring it. I am never, ever doing this again. I am old- this was the truth, it hit me cold in the face as I tried for ten minutes to make my way back up to my bed.
This truth was proven, without a doubt as a fact the next day. I could not actually move. I stayed exactly where I was, which was legs hanging off the side of my bed, laying on my chest, falling in and out of drunken sleepiness, praying to God, yes God, to make it stop. Which it did, eventually, around 6pm, I was able to eat and drink like a human being again.
I had a great night, I’ve just finished paying for it today, Sunday …
I am too old…too old not to do it all again in a few months for D’s birthday…