The tipping point

I have a specific and finely calibrated tipping point and it’s 3 alcoholic drinks. With a blood alcohol level at 3 alcoholic drinks, I am great. Some people (ok, only me) might even say fantastic. I can carry out erudite conversations about the Oxford comma – I’m totally for it, by the way – or real world zombies, or which one of the boys from Supernatural is hotter – Sam or Dean (it’s totally Sam)! After 3 drinks however I am a complete effing idiot! And it doesn’t seem to matter what kind of alcohol – 3 glasses of wine, 3 cocktails, 3 tequila shots – 3 seems to be the magic number!

And I think I’ve gotten quite good – usually – at figuring out when to stop. So pretty much after that third drink I just want to go home and sleep and not be around other human beings. This is how any evening normally goes –

0-1 drink: sparkling and witty! I am winning friends and influencing people! I am the flame to their moths, the nectar to their bees, the umm… chum to their sharks! I am hugging people, asking about their children, and their vacations, and their health! I am genuinely interested! It’s so nice to see everyone!

1-2 drinks: this martini/wine/margarita is making me AWESOME!! I am carrying out 2, sometimes 3, conversations with different groups of people at the same time! I am on fire! The one liners are flowing, the pop references are on crack, I am king of the world! People I’ve met for the first time are hugging me!

2-3 drinks: I am bloody marvelous!! I am a rock star and I love everybody and everybody loves me! Why is Dave shaking his head? Ooh, I bet I said something completely inappropriate about our sex life – hee hee! I love [insert name of friend I am currently talking to – whatshername]!! She’s so nice and pretty – I’ve been talking to her for so long and I think she really appreciates all the tips I’m giving her on how to live a better life! And I know that repetition is the key to my success in being convincing so I’m being extra prodigiously repetitive and she is obviously totally digging it!

3+drinks: I just want to go home and die! I hate everyone!! Why are these people still talking? Wow my head is getting really heavy. Tomorrow is going to be an effing nightmare! This is what happens when you don’t build up a tolerance for alcohol from a really young age. Why, oh why did I not start drinking a little at a time when I was like 10 years old?! Like Rasputin and poison! What the hell is wrong with me, why would I think of Rasputin at this time! Ohhhh, sweet sleep, sweet bed of mine, delicious slumber! Oh god – who is this asshole next to me and why won’t they shut their pie holes!? Shut up people and go home for the love of all that is good and holy!!

The next morning: I am nursing a headache and roiling stomach while simultaneously sending out apology cards and flowers to all the people I offended. Whatshername, the friend I was giving super cogent advice to the night before, usually also gets a box of candy. Dave is only communicating with me in short, terse sentences. And my daughter, while obviously channeling my mother, is asking me loudly – “so, did you get drunk last night? Well, did you? And how do you feel this morning? Not too good huh? Yeah, you don’t look so good either! Look at me when I’m talking to you, you not-so-young-anymore lady, there’s no use pretending you can’t hear me!” Shhhh, just please speak softly, you spawn of Satan!

The up-side of my headache from hell is that I am serving as a cautionary tale to my children! Maybe she’ll think twice before drinking and maybe she’ll refuse that drink because she’ll remember how she thought I was an effing moron – I can only hope! Maybe, someday in the future, some idiot friend will ask my son to go ahead and have another drink. And my son will remember that fateful morning when mommy couldn’t lift her head off the table and was chewing Tums like they were candy!

Yeah, so 3 drinks, that’s probably all I can handle – just sayin’!

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One comment

  1. […] Second, I am grateful for my friends. Every last crazy one of them. They are the aloe vera for my parched soul. They have made me cry with laughter, drunk on good conversation (and good wine, let’s not get too poetic), counseled me, listened to me vent loudly (sometimes too loudly…ok, most times too loudly), challenged me, accepted me with my many idiosyncrasies, lent me many a shoulder to cry on, fed me, and refused me the 4th glass of wine! […]

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