I like to think of myself as a sensible, graceful, sophisticated human being and like all sensible, graceful, sophisticated people, I know my limits when it comes to drinking alcohol.
I don’t tend to go out drinking a lot so my tolerance for alcohol is relatively low – on average, I only have to consume two drinks before I start to feel the effects.
Once I have had two drinks, I usually recognise that I have reached my limit and my rational mind prevents me from ingesting any more alcohol in an attempt to preserve my dignity.
However, sometimes, I get cocky.
Sometimes, despite prior evidence to the contrary, I become convinced that my body can cope with a further two units of alcohol.
Sometimes, I have a third drink.
This is the first in a series of stupid decisions.
For me, the process of getting drunk starts with denial.
Whilst I am making my way through my third drink, my brain comes up with a series of excuses to convince both myself and the people around me that I am still the dignified person that I consider myself to be.
Eventually, however, the realisation that I am, in fact, drunk hits me with the force of a life-altering epiphany.
At this point, the fact that I’m drunk becomes the single most important piece of information in existence and I experience an unstoppable urge to share it with everyone in the immediate vicinity.
For a couple of hours, the feeling of being drunk eclipses everything, including a sense of shame or social dignity.
This means that I am much more confident and much less socially inhibited than I am in everyday life.
Normally, I am quite a shy person who can be slightly apprehensive when meeting new people.
For me, making friends usually involves finding a person with whom I have a lot in common and then building up connection and trust over an extended period of time.
When I am drunk, I am happy to make friends with pretty much anyone as long as they are equally as drunk as me.
MAKING FRIENDS WHEN DRUNK
Unfortunately, at some point in the night, I start to sober up.
The confidence and bravado that alcohol had bestowed upon me suddenly dissipates and is replaced by an intense vulnerability.
This part of the night tends to be quite an emotional time for me.
Having an emotional breakdown tends to leave me feeling quite drained and, once I have attempted to fill the emotional void with various types of fried food, any remotely flat surface becomes a viable place to sleep.
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