Regrets, I’ve got a few… and they are never as clear as they are the morning after the night before. I’m not really sure what that suggests about my character or it’s obvious flaws but it does seem to insinuate that a few rums, wines, vodkas or beers will inevitably lead me to some kind of behaviour that, in less than eight hours, I will ultimately live to regret and get to add to the long lists of ‘Fuck, don’t think I should have done that…’
This morning’s regrets are not overly drastic and I will live through them. I got home at 2.30am and decided it was a very good time to send a diatribe of a message to a friend. Not a normal drunk message ‘I love you, I wish you were here’ but a novel of the issues that surround Brisbane Men and drinking in the presence of non quality people. I am sure it extends from not only the tall streak of pidgeon shit who took my drink from the table last night but to the married man who put his wedding ring in his pocket hoping we didn’t notice, to the man burgeoning on middle age who just couldn’t quite seem to grasp the concept of no. (I can hear the women of my family screaming ‘No! Why would you send him away!’ Because he tried to root my very married friend – that’s why.) But in the end, my personal reflection on the quality of men at a local drinking establishment after a football game is most likely pure horse shit and not an accurate reflection of Brisbane’s single scene. But at 2.30am, it was the most important thing in the whole entire world and I felt it was absolutely imperative that someone hear about it. Even if that person doesn’t live in this city and has no interest in the piece of shit that stole my drink last night.
As far as regrets go, the above one is not disastorous. If I had a dollar, no fifty cents, for every text message, email, phonecall, skype/viber message that I sent in a drunk state, I would be a freaking millionaire and I could devote my life to shoes and charity. So while I apologise for the bullshit that a friend of mine has to read this morning, I think we will both recover. There are other drinking inspired regrets that are not so recoverable. That time I spewed on that boy in the park, that night I slept on the floor in the bathroom, thinking that one more round of shots was brilliant, losing my shoe/coat/bra on the journey home, not saying yes (or no) when I should have when he asked me the first time. The list is endless and as my drinking career advances, I am getting better at finding that drinking state of excellence that the advertisement talks about and stopping myself before the behaviour has a way of ruining my next morning’s breakfast.
The drinking regrets of yours truly are not special, particular or individually isolated to me. Most of you will compile a similar list of drinking regrets. We’ve all woken up in places we shouldn’t have been, all groaned at the flashbacks of drunken antics and all deleted messages from our phones in the hope they never existed. It’s the other kind of regrets that make us inidividuals. Choosing not to get on the bus to France, not telling him I loved him earlier, not calling them out when they hurt me, going back when I knew I shouldn’t have, not visiting as often when I could have, not listening when they tried to explain, whatever event happened in my childhood that makes me scared of roller coasters. That list too is quite long and I am certain if I sat long enough I would depress myself about the things I regret. What I notice about my list though, is the inclusion of the word NOT a lot. In my drunk regret list it’s all the things that I DID that make my morning after’s hard. In my non drunk list it’s all the things I DIDN’T do.
My life is not a quiet one and I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being ‘boring’ or living an ‘unadventurous’ life but the truth is I don’t take very many risks when it comes to the big things. When it comes to love and my career my regrets are long and filled with I should haves. I have been, no I am, scared of the hangovers that come with those parts of my life. I convince myself that I couldn’t possibly handle the emotional aftermath equivalent of waking up in your own vomit on the bathroom tiles.
When it comes to my career, I took the biggest step of my life this year. It was safe and risk free but still took more consideration than anything I’ve ever done before. And I am going to have to do it again at the end of the year but I’m less scared about it now. I’ll know I’ll survive a job change. I’ve already done it. I’ll still be nervous, scared and petrified but I’ll know that passing out on the tiles is worse.
My life in love…? Well that’s a different story. I am still filling my life with men who don’t love me enough but at least now I know that there is no point thinking about them. That I need to just shut up, stop thinking and enjoy the boy time. I have learned to not privlige them and that if a man opportunity arises, my boys don’t become a time privliging factor. That may not seem like rocket science to you but that one has taken me quite a few years to come through. And until I can see that coming to fruition it’s time to go back to practising how to keep myself in a state of drinking excellence and avoiding the pitfalls of drunk regret. Can someone please tell me the name of that app that stops you sending drunk messages? Or did I just see that on TV?
life in big frilly knickers 