Social Hangover


I’m not a girl who simply sits at home waiting for my life to happen. I’ll make a solo adventure down town to some bar. It’s not always successful but usually I’ll meet SOMEONE. And then there’s nights like last night where I don’t meet someone, but instead I meet everyone, and they all seem equally excited to meet me. There’s people from out of town who insist on buying my drinks, and the girl who dances like she’s 12, even though she’s nearly 30. I watched her as her ratty hair flew around against her knotty red faded tee. I’d give anything to be that care free. To just dance for the sake of dancing. I glace at the people around me. And a guy I’d just met I noticed was watching her, so I sat still in my moment, watching him watch her, and before I realize that I was staring, he turns his head and he’s looking at me. He smiles and walking over to where I’m sitting, he sits down next to me. “She looks ridiculous” The late 20 something is on the dance floor bumping and grinding with some other girl. “I’ve so outgrown that stage” I watch as he takes a sip of his drink. Then he smiles fondly, as if remembering something.

“What? Being into dudes?” When he says faze it made me think he may have been sexually curious at one point. Testing the waters on what it would feel like for him to be with another man. He looked shocked by my suggestion.

“No. I mean lesbians” okay, so I’m completely wrong.

The night went on with sideways glances and one liners. Watching everyone in the room, they swayed back and forth to the loud techno music that was severely lacking any true beat that I could dance to.

Last call rung out and a mass of people flocked to the bar at one last attempt to glaze over the evening with alcohol that could make the perception of reality a little less painful on the ride home.

I search out the guy who’d disproved all the misconceptions I’d made about him. He was heading toward the door. I made a point to catch up to him and bid him a farewell.We both say goodbye and he mumbles something about me emailing him. I didn’t move from where I was standing but instead watched him disappear into the crowd.

With the bar now empty, I make my way back to my  car and drive my tired ass home. In the span of five hours I’d only had two margaritas, a shot of tequila, and a shot of sweet tea vodka. If I was actually drunk I couldn’t feel it. It was a state of mind that came during the witching hour. I don’t care what people say. If you’re still up at 3 am, go to sleep, or at least don’t make any decisions.

Finally. Walking into my apartment  I fumble to find my keys to unlock my bedroom door. I sometimes hate that I have to lock my bedroom door but just the same I’m glad to have it. I get into my room and kick off both my shoes, and my pants and crawl into bed.

Morning found me too soon. I woke up without the vibration of my phone, or the buzz from my alarm clock. Just the same, I’m still tired. And I can feel a small headache.In the early morning brain fuzz I think back to the night before. How much had I drank? I lay there thinking about it. I realize that the amount of alcohol I did drink was not enough to equal this pseudo crappy feeling I had.

I’m not used to being out until 2 am every night. Which has pretty much been what I’ve been doing since Thursday. And even though I’m having a blast socializing, networking, meeting cool people. I think I’m socially hungover.

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