So far, this is one of the worst birthdays I have ever had. I sit here, newly 31 in my elastic waistband pants, memories of last night at work including A) trying not to cry in front of my really drunk ex boyfriend, B) throwing my cell phone across the room, and C) eating not only a hot fudge ice cream sundae but also a strawberry milkshake because I have no self control and I because I wanted to, goddammit.
This day comes as the aftermath to my party over the weekend. I always throw myself a birthday party—it’s a great excuse to get everyone together, friends from all different parts of your life. This year things got a little out of hand. Drinking when you’re upset isn’t really the best thing to do, and right around 12:30am I mentally (but not physically) checked out for the evening. I haven’t blacked out this badly in my entire life.
I am mortified.
I wake up, not in my own bedroom, wrapped like a burrito in pajamas and a blanket. Someone puked in my trashcan. Someone peed on my kitchen floor. My friend’s truck is up on a flatbed and being towed all the way back to Rhode Island. He doesn’t remember anything but there’s a Vine video of him sleeping upright in a chair at the bar, swaying on occasion and the bouncer tapping his shoulder to keep him from falling. I wished I had been the one to fall asleep.
I want to crawl in a hole and die, but I have to be at work in a few hours. Bridges were burned, mistakes were made. Weird things happened in a photo booth. My shoes must not have been a great choice, as my feet are sliced to ribbons. I must not have noticed, the cuts are deep.
I notice them in the morning, however, with my feet throbbing along with my head.
Ugh, 31. I remember where I was last year, waiting on a guy who didn’t care. The year before that, drunk with one who would dump me a week later. The one before that, a two year relationship ending in tears. This year didn’t wind up much better, and as I wave goodbye to my friends and crawl back into my bed I vow that this is the last time. I’m never drinking again. From here on out it’s nothing but strawberry milkshakes.