BLAME IT ON THE ALCOHOL
Today’s contributor learns why they call it ‘truth juice’
Like most twenty-somethings, I enjoy social drinking. It allows me to let my hair down and free my inhibitions. For the most part, this is fine, fun even — until the night I found myself a little too drunk and uninhibited in the company of a crush.
I was headed to New York for grad school and threw myself a going away party. Over 50 people attended, including my crush — who also happened to be a good friend. I was never quite sure if he placed me in the friend zone, but secretly, I had it bad for him. Either way, I had no intentions of telling him how I really felt. Little did I know, I was about to deliver one hell of a confession.
The night was young and drinks were flowing. I danced, mingled and accepted every toast from my friends. Eventually, my crush arrived, and to my surprise, he was accompanied by another woman. Now, I’m not one to hate, but I was really disappointed in his selection. She was definitely below my level in looks and style, and if I’m being honest here, she had some major orthodontic issues. But I remained courteous and welcomed them to the festivities.
Twelve drinks later, the night went seriously downhill. From what my friends told me, I gave my crush a lap dance, professed my undying love, and told him how whack his date was and that he’d be better off with me. To make matters worse, I had toilet paper hanging out of my underpants, my breasts made several cameos, and I fell on the dance floor at least three times. I completely humiliated myself — and for what? I didn’t get the guy, and I lost a good friend.
My new rule of thumb? Alcohol and crushes don’t mix.
