It’s Saturday morning (8:23) to be exact. I should be horribly horrendously hungover. Like ridiculously so. I’m either hungover or still drunk. Maybe I’m magically un-hungover as a result of throwing up last night. Yep, that’s right, you didn’t misread that last sentence, I was that girl. The one who had one too many beers and threw up. Outside the bar. In front of people. The worst thing about it is that I could feel it coming. I left the bar, the air hit me, my stomach was like: nah, girl, you did not need to drink that last pint of delicious craft beer, and you certainly did not need to drink it soooo quickly.
Luckily, none of it got on my clothes or in my hair and my taxi arrived shortly after (if I’d been a bit quicker about that I could have vomited in the safety of my own home, but again, nah, didn’t get to do that*). My friends girlfriend was very kind and still hugged me when I was leaving. I wouldn’t have, Her friend gave me a tissue and no more was said (bit of context here, they were a group of flawless Spanish people with great hair). I mean, plenty was probably said after I left. I was that drunk Irish girl that threw up, and the anxious part of my brain is doing the rounds on that, it’s properly annoyed at myself. It’s probably overreacting as well, but being smart enough to recognise anxiety and the fear is not quite enough to banish it unfortunately.
So, yeah, that’s life.
All things considered though, I had a brilliant night. It was one of those random nights that wasn’t supposed to happen. I went to a friends house to chat to his housemate about the company he works for because I’m considering applying. Before I knew it, I had a drink in my hand, we were bonding and planning to go to Brewbot. If you live in Belfast and you haven’t been to Brewbot you need to go, like right now. Seriously. They do all the delicious craft beers. Craft beers that get you drunk. And they have boardgames.
The funny thing is, my friend didn’t even go out. It was just me, his housemates and their friends. It was a random, spontaneous night where I made new friends (unless the throwing up ruined that, but that’s probably the anxiety talking, right? Right?) and had so so much fun. And there’s nothing quite like that new friend glow to cheer you up when you’ve been having a awful week.
…then I threw up, because, yeah, I’m not that lucky.
My Instagram feed is full of people who are having productive Saturday mornings, they’re making healthy breakfasts and going to the gym and running errands. I’ve managed to shower and put on makeup while moaning to my friend over a Skype call about what a bad adult I am, and how I am definitely still drunk. Oh, and I took a selfie.
But YOLO, right? You only live once (or you obviously like owls), and I’ll take random nights out with new friends over a night in every damn time.
Now I just need to wait for it to be an acceptable time to order Dominos and wait for the hangover to hit.
Update: It’s now 3:36 on Sunday, I didn’t order Dominos, I went to meet a friend for pints and ended up at Limelight. I had dinner. I did not throw up.
*I did, in fact, get to vomit in the privacy of my own home as well.