The Drinking Curve

I tell you, work life sucks. Either you're working and thinking on those lines or you're trying to keep yourself as far as possible from any kind of device that encourages work. Hence, the delay in the posting of this rant.

The above also brings me to acknowledge the recently discovered attitude towards what used to be my favourite thing in the world when I was young... err... well, younger. (?) Alcohol; the magic, the flair and the tremendous amount of fearlessness that comes with it. Yeah, I was that friend who could drink and make others drink to anything. You know, the kind of friend who turns everything in life into a drinking occasion... be it a break up, a new relationship, an achievement, a failure, a weekday, a weekend, celebrating that you've been drinking for 3 nights straight, 4 nights straights, 5 nights straight..... aaaand you get the drill. Just about anything. Bored? Let's get drunk! Diwali? Let's totally return home drunk and traumatize the shit out of the folks! Feeling too hyper? Let's get drunk and pass out in peace I say. Ok? Ok. In my defense, yes I definitely have been a nuisance but a very entertaining one at that.

So when it came to kickstarting my career and finally having the means of indulging in liquor above the ranks of old monks and port wines, needless to say, I was dazed at the colorful prospects of my future drinking life. And then the dreams of a 1 tequila-2 tequila-3 tequila-floor routine silently died a gradual death. Four drinks became three, three became two and two drinks slowly transformed to even preferring mocktails on some evenings. 

Presently, you can imagine the disbelief my friends and acquaintances are faced with whenever I venture to go out drinking with them.

And then there are those times when I am reminded of my past vigour and spark and my capacities to "own" the party and suddenly I would feel like a teenager again, ready to guzzle down whatever it takes to prove that point. So with me all dressed up and drunk, you'd assume I'm back on my feet to steal the show but instead what you witness is a cranky droopy-eyed bitch who wants to beat you to pulp because her decision to go home and sleep isn't receiving sufficient footage. To add to the injury, the clock probably hasn't even struck midnight.

 

Post-hangover, I promise myself to skip the -OH factor the next time. It comes with a set of pros and cons of course. Pros being no Aspirin-binging in the morning and cons being labelled as "old and boring". Again in my defense, after 8 yrs of being young and exciting, I could make peace with having earned the latter label. 

 

In fact, in all honesty, the drinking curve has hit such a low that I sometimes even tend to lie about what I'm doing just to bunk the invitations.

But before you all give up on me, I'm sure I'm not ALL old and withered and that there will be those rare moments when I'll gladly crave for those much missed pitchers and towers when in the presence of suitable company. But until then, how about keeping them really rare and special? :D

.

.

.

Crap. I'm old. Must go partying and prove myself wrong. Must.Must.Must.

.

.

Yawn.