This isn’t news to anyone who’s known me for any length of time, but if sober me likes communication and the various forms of social media a little more than average, drunk me has a serious problem when it comes to the need to communicate *now*.
I admit it. I have a slight drunk texting problem. I always have, but over the years, as I’ve started having fewer wild nights out that involve waking up with a severe hangover and reading the text logs from the night before in a state of shame and mortification, it’s become less of a problem.
Last night proved old habits die hard. After closing down a few bars, then going home and drinking vodka cranberry at my house, by 5 AM, I couldn’t walk in a straight line, but I somehow figured out how to use my phone. It should, ideally, come with a breathalyzer.
The problem with me and drunk texting is I will not text you at 1 AM after a few drinks to say “Woo hoo!! Having great time! Wish you were here”. No. I will text you at 5 or 6 AM when you are asleep—and often not alone—to tell you that I am secretly in love with you, to share whatever inappropriate thought is in my head about our friendship, or to suggest you don’t love me because you’re not going to leave your wife for me. Sometimes I will announce that it’s stupid that we ever broke up, or that I don’t understand why you’re not interested in me, given how awesome I am. ( I think the answer to that is self-evident.) I will drop earth-shattering feelings, often typed incoherently, on your phone at 5 or 6 AM, without any consideration for the fact that you might be sleeping, or there might be another person in your bed who is going to feel even less positively about my texts than you do.
You know all that stuff people secretly think about their relationships with other people? I type it in an only somewhat coherent fashion, and send it to you before passing out on my bed. I then wake up in a state of shame and mortification, because there are some things best left unsaid, some things that are best not discussed, but drunk me doesn’t know that as soon as an instrument of communication is placed near her.
It’s been awhile since I had an incident involving drunk texting, mostly because I’m older and wiser and no longer get that drunk that I have the irresistible urge to turn your world upside down by sharing my feelings.
Last night, I definitely fell off the drunk texting wagon, and this is something that is not going to work out well for me—particularly given that one of the friends I sent texts to is married, and another is a friend with whom I recently patched up a fight over communication with the laying down of some ground rules, one of which is “Don’t text me while I’m sleeping”. Neither one of these people needs to hear about my emotional attachment to them, and they certainly didn’t need to hear about it before sunrise. So, yeah. Not my finest hour in life.
A third friend who received a drunk text was drunk enough to drunk text me back. While amusing, I don’t think either of us understood a word of said conversation, and I passed out for the night in the middle of it.
I really do think very highly of all of the friends I drunk text, I’m just not sober enough to realise how inappropriate and self-centred my 5 AM emotional outbursts are. Please don’t judge me for my random drunk texting habit and my lack of better judgment. Totally, totally sorry. This is why I don’t have too many crazy nights out anymore; I have too many feelings and secrets that *should* be kept to myself, and somewhere around martini #5, I totally forget that.