Young Single Stupid And VERY Alcoholic

It has come to my attention recently (and also somewhat to my dismay), that when I am out with guys for the first time, I might be coming across as somewhat of an alcoholic. In some bizarre attempt to appear interesting and entertaining, any nerves I may be experiencing seem to short circuit my brain and I find myself recounting the time a friend and I managed to polish off a litre of Beam in one sitting, the time I couldn’t find a pain killer so I decided booze might work just as well or the Contiki Tour mornings after the nights before, where buses on steep hills were definitely not my friends.

I recall with fondness the birthday where I quite possibly had more than my fair share of red wine and my flatmate ended up telling me that if I fell over once more he was going to take me home. My memories of that night actually centre around the fact that Mr Flatmate really went above and beyond for me and also doubled as a bodyguard which was amusing at the time, but it doesn’t necessarily recommend my common sense to others. And the thing is that once I start on this slippery slope, I just seem to keep going. Its like watching a car crash. Or maybe a bad movie. I see everything going pear-shaped and hope its somehow going to get better but it really doesn’t.

Its usually about this time that I talk about the work drinks evening after which it probably took me an hour-and-a-half to weave my way home along my accustomed hour-long route, quite possibly due to some extra k’s covered. I might talk about the mad pubcrawl with the Italian Man where we visited around thirteen venues in Melbourne and sampled beverages in all of them, or the Saturdays I spent working in a bar overseas to earn the money I would drink on the Sundays. After this I think anyone is unlikely to believe that I actually don’t imbibe that much. I think thats probably true though.

Many of my friends would attest to the fact that I often drove to bar night whilst in uni and that I will still go out to the pubs and stay on the soft stuff. My flatmates could tell you that I rarely drink at home and that when I do it is for a social occasion. These stories come from years of being over the legal age to publicly consume alcohol but somehow they all seem to come out when I need something to say. Like some sort of social currency, I hope they will ease my way into a conversation but I may just be digging myself a hole. It almost seems beside the point to say that I’ve never passed out, forgotten what I’ve done, regretted something I’ve done or had difficulty standing up straight (dancing is another matter entirely). Maybe next time though I should just say upfront ‘my name is Gauchegirl and I’m an alcoholic…’. At least that way they might think I was being ironic.