drink too much

My body abhors alcohol. We used to get along just fine, but as any adolescent female can attest, your former friends can become your most dangerous enemies. Sometimes, though, I really think she's changed and I remember how it used to be, back in college. We used to stay up all night. I felt so comfortable with her and she brought something out in me that no one else could, but things went sour around 2005 when our lighthearted trysts began leaving me in messy heaps on the floor, my digestive tract suffering from a severe case of vertigo.

In 2006, she and I briefly reconciled and were getting along fabulously over a dinner of Peruvian guinea pig and alpaca meat, but the bitch turned on me about 2am and left me under a comforter for two days, recovering in a cold Cuzcan hostel. We've had smaller run-ins the past few years that have further crystallized our frenemy status. So I have taken my mother's advice regarding all shifty friends, and am very polite to her in public, but limited my contact to the bare minimum that is necessary to avoid an awkward social situation (usually 2 drinks over the course of the evening).

This preventative two drink policy has guided me through a healthy mid-20's though it occasionally creates the impression that I am far more responsible and bland than I actually am (or think myself to be). Hence, my goal to invite my old assailant in for one evening of youthful and imprudent decision making.

Last night, I went out with a group of Peace Corps volunteers and, flooded with familiar experiences and great respect for the people occupying the plastic chairs around me, decided to let my generosity of spirit overflow and approach alcohol with open arms. A few hours and a dozen or two liters of Presidente Lite later, the whole group was jovial and we headed home. Shauna and I retired to the couch, catching up and swapping stories as my head began to ache and my stomach revolt. I slowly migrated from an upright seated position into a more reclined posture, with my bum off the couch and my neck now nestled in the throw pillows where my rear had been only a few hours before. The fingers on my left had also found a sweet spot near my left temple that, when pressed hard enough, kept the throbbing away. Shauna, ever perceptive and diplomatic, commented, "you look exhausted" and I suggested we make some late night pb&j to calm the waves in my stomach. The sandwich, along with a cold shower, an Excedrin, and a good tooth brushing, raised my confidence that I could get into bed and maintain full control of my body for the duration of the evening.

Woke up this morning with a craving for greasy carbs and a nap, but pleased to have maintained my aplomb after a night of dancing with my devil. Glad to have done it, glad to have crossed it off the list and glad to return to my responsible and bland self.