I'm Pretty Sure I Just Did The Sober Equivalent Of Drunk Texting...
I really need to punch myself in the face right now.
I used to drink. Heavily and often. Let’s put it this way- I carried a Tervis with Bacardi 151 in it everywhere I went. 7am? Yep. 7pm? Yep. In between? Yep.
It was hurricane, affectionately nicknamed “Slurricane” by my boy Sean. No doubt about it, I did a lot of slurring in those days. For the amount I was drinking, I actually kept a pretty firm grip on things. A functional alcoholic, that’s the term for it if you were wondering.
Needless to say, I could do some drunk texting with the absolute sloppiest of the drunk bitches. I swore that when I put the 151 down, I would no longer contact any of the questionable numbers from the 12:15a column in my phone. Funny notation, I actually married the “Most Frequently Dialed After 12:15 Cumulative Winner 2005, 2006 and 2007.
I will add, Corey worked second shift, so while I was absolutely shmammered by the time he was clocking out, he would give me the 30-minute heads up when he was leaving the job, and I would either get up and pretend to be less drunk than I actually was, or I would move to the couch so I could pretend to be awake when he came in. 3 nights a week like clockwork for years, he and I would pretend I wasn’t a complete shitshow at the time, he and I would pretend that we were simply sleeping together, and he and I would pretend that I wasn’t aware of the fact that he was holding something back, and he would pretend that he didn’t understand what the questions were alluding to.
Of course, if you have been with us a while, you know that Corey was the end of any part of my life that would resemble the “domesticated” me. When Corey passed away in December, I remember thinking “there went the last chance I had at wifey”. He had the patience of a saint, which I guess was absolutely necessary when he had to carry on two full-fledged marriages. Not back to back. Simultaneously. I was the second.
He told me, the night I found out there was definitely something going on, but prior to finding out the whole truth, “Babygirl, I never cheated on you. I cheated on her to be with you”. I felt like I had been punched in my stomach. I literally gagged. It wasn’t what he said. The way he looked when he said it, the absolute flippancy of his whole demeanor. Like, what? Damn, he chose me when he was already with her. Like that’s supposed to mean anything at all to me. It didn’t and it still doesn’t.
Rest Well, Corey, I forgive you and I will love you until I exhale that last time.
So, that’s what I think of when I sum the total of my drunk texts. I was clearly drinking so much I couldn’t tell you my boyfriend of 3 years had an entire other life. How drunk do you have to be to miss that, y’all? Well, evidently, you have to be Bacardi 151 Slurricane drunk, that’s how drunk.
But today? I have no liquor to blame. Zero haze whatsoever. I’ve been bamming coffee (Southern Toasted Pecan) since 11pm. Working. Then I stumbled across the column that I will refer to as the catalyst for the behavior that I now feel a little nauseated about.
Now, I have very few exes that I can say I enjoy catching up with, and actually look forward to speaking with them. Huggie Bear, Abby, Johnnie Reed. All 3 great dudes, and when things go sideways with whatever Fuckboy I thought it was a good idea to lead him to believe I was actually listening as he spoke to me, ever, I have turned to any or all of them at one time or another because their common element is that they are large, intimidating guys. I am not a woman that subscribes to ever “needing” a guy, but I won’t lie; it is a different kind of comfort. I can understand the absolute appeal of hiding your face in a large intimidating dudes chest and pretending the world can’t hurt you. I digress.
I sober texted an ex. I don’t know why, other than maybe my Southern Toasted Pecan had me in some sort of nut allergen drunk, but I immediately regretted it. Then my phone rang. Fuck.
I’m just going to let it roll. Everyone has a moment of weakness, but dear God, don’t answer the phone and turn that moment into a conversation. If you accidentally fire the gun, at least dodge the damned bullet.
You can sober-drunk text me anytime. And as an introvert, I promise I will never call you 😘