Just Off Center

I have to conclude that my hangovers are worse than most anyone I know. It's not just the headache, the dry mouth, the achiness, or way I stink when I wake up. It's the memories and the way I deal with them that tears me apart after a night of drinking that paralyze me the morning after. I'll expound.

Last night I went out after work to meet some friends at a local happy hour joint. One of my coworkers is in a band and had a set that night in town. Since I live so far away from that area (about 45 miles) I decided to run a couple errands and meet my friends at the bar to celebrate one of their birthdays. When I got there they hadn't yet arrived. I ordered a pitcher of beer and got started on my first pint. Then I had another. By the time they showed up, I was a little buzzy and the pitcher was more than half dead. They finished it off and we moved to another table.

After a couple hours we were all feeling pretty fine. We'd knocked back several pitchers of lite domestic draft beer and were getting ready to head out to the club. Over the course of the past hours we had been approached by the local barfly who kept pining for male attention. Since the two guys I was with were absolutely inept at speaking with the opposite sex I was having some fun keeping her attention on me by pretending to give a shit about the mundane banter she was spitting. Then another friend showed up and I played his eyes for him, scavenging the area for decent 'tang. He got a number and we left happy.

After jamming out to Kasabian on the way to the club we arrived to find a good number of my coworkers were there already. We ordered a beer and started mingling. My boss was there and looked terribly out of place despite his best attempts at the contrary. If I were a girl I would say that it was really cute and sweet. My coworker was looking all badass but was still walking around being friendly with all of us before her set. As they started playing I sat down and started grooving. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I know I can't dance, but I was making the effort. Mostly I was just lunging to and fro on my stool. Nobody was actually standing up and dancing which disappoints me, because that would reassure me that fewer people were staring at me as I jerked arhythmically in my seat.

I should have known that I'd had enough to drink before I stopped. The thing was that I was not just tipsy, but also getting progressively more dehydrated. This was making the effects of the alcohol more severe. I spilled a drink and was talking loud. No biggie considering the floor was concrete and everyone else was also drunk and loud. But then one of my coworkers decided to take it upon himself to tell me that I was going to spend the night at his house because I was obviously way too fucked up to consider driving home. This guy was one to talk. He'd been there with me since the beginning. At any rate, I knew that for the rest of the evening he was going to obsess over me so I avoided him.

After the set was over I got a couple stickers from the band. They are really cool and spell out the name of the band using letters from the Periodic Table of the Elements. Mike came up behind me ands stuck one to my back. I pulled it off and tried to stick it on him but he had moved away. Instead I stuck it on my bass-playing coworker's chest. Did I mention she's female? Anyway I didn't touch her tits. I put it above them on her shirt. But then the guy behind her got really upset with me. I guess I had just met her boyfriend. He made a comment and stormed off. I didn't feel I had done anything wrong. The girl wasn't upset. In fact she was laughing too. But I had obviously offended her boyfriend. Mike told me that I needed to apologize to him. He follows the unwritten code of man to the letter. Oh, and he was drunk too.

I had intended all along to apologize and I did. Apparently, she had smoothed things over and he came back out. I jumped at the chance to tell him I was sorry, had no intention of feeling her up, and was just playing around. He said he had overreacted anyway. We shook hands and that was that. Or was it? Apparently my DUI stressing coworker took it upon himself to pull the boyfriend aside and give him a quite unnecessary and unsolicited fifteen minute rap about how I was drunk and meant no harm. Funny. I thought we had already established that and put the whole matter to bed. Anyway, the concert was over, I was tired, my friends were annoying me, and I wanted to go home.

I made it home without a hitch. I did so because I wasn't fucking drunk. Sure I could still feel a buzz, but I was lucid and clear. If anything I was just really tired. It was about 1:00 AM. When I got home I ate, told Nina a few things about the night and went to bed. Nina slept in the other bedroom because my snoring and beer-induced stench were too much for her to sleep with. Poor girl.

And then I woke up. I knew immediately when I became conscious that I had been out drinking the night before and I knew what to expect. I knew how my mind deals with these things, so I tried to prepare myself by assuring myself that I hadn't done anything wrong that night and that I was just out for fun. It was futile. Within a few seconds some of the memories started to flood in from the night before. Most of them were fun, but all of them were hazy and ruddy from the beer. And just like that came the wave of anguish and regret that comes every morning after. Within the cavern that is my mind I am several different Mikes. At any time one of them has the floor. And when I wake up after a night out where drinking is involved there is always the Mike that falls to the ground, curls up and begins to wail and scream in shame of my behavior the night before. It brings the headache and hangover, and I start wondering to whom will I have to apologize this day.

But I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't done anything wrong. Despite these assurances the pain and sorrow swept through me as it always does. I tried to sleep. I tried not to start crying. I was successful in that regard, but only because I knew...I hadn't ... done... anything... wrong. I woke up an hour later feeling only slightly better physically and emotionally. I went back to sleep. I repeated this every hour until 10:30 this morning. I decided to get up, brush my teeth, get some water, and take a piss. I couldn't delay the pissing any longer. Nina was a bit upset with me about the ways I had inconvenienced her, but she kept it to herself. I tried to make it through the day despite my nausea and battle with unwarranted depression. All in all today was a good day though.

And this is how I live. If I drink while out socializing I will undoubtedly wake up early the next morning and as the hangover sets in I will start remembering flashes of my behavior the night before. And as I do I hear the screaming in my head and feel the anguish it brings. My only consolation is that I was just out having fun. I don't start fights. I don't do or say mean things. Anyone who reads my blog should know that I am just a big softy. When I'm drunk, I'm just a big drunk softy. Perhaps I should quit drinking altogether. Perhaps I should get these feelings and voices in my head analyzed by a professional. Whatever the case, I have to conclude that my hangovers are worse than most anyone I know. My hangovers come complete with a crippling sense of sorrow and regret.