(If you are offended by stories that involve s
exual references, you probably wont want to read this blog)
The thing I’m finding about not drinking is you tend not to do things that you don’t really want to do. For instance, I went out to a heavy metal show with Simo and Benny last night. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but when you really don’t enjoy a certain type of music, sobriety seems to make your musical preferences even more apparent.
So, I end up spending only about an hour at the venue before I decide that this really wasn’t my scene. In the past, the vodka and redbull, consumed ad nauseam , would have found solace in the novelty of the situation.
So I leave the venue, but the nights adventure only just begins.
On the way home I get an obscure text message from a girl I hooked up with several months ago. Recently single, I thought that it might do me some good to catch up with her again so I agree to pick her up from her work drinks. Big mistake.
I arrive at the restaurant in my pyjamas and a singlet and wait out the front for a while. The restaurant’s Maitre d‘ is a friend of mine so we chat out the front for a bit while he packs up the chairs. Then, to my horror, she steps out of the bathroom, supported by her boss who proceeds to lecture me on ‘looking after her’ and making sure she drinks plenty of water.
Great. Looking after a spastic girl is all I want to do at 11pm on Saturday night.
So I pour her into my car and start to drive home. 50 meters down the road.. ‘I’m goie be sick’…
I pull over and run over to the other side to get her out of the car and carry her listless body to a garden bed. I hold her like I am performing the Heimlich manoeuvre with one hand and I grab a handful of her blonde hair back with the other. She throws up all over her feet. Disgusting.
It is at this point that the police drive past the spectacle. They both seem to have this ‘we’ve seen that before’ nonchalant smile on their faces. I try to smile back.
Getting her back into the car, one of her boobs pops out of her dress. I felt so embarrassed for her.
When we finally got home (after 2 more stops on the way there) she lay passed out in my driveway for sometime, her feet in pile of vomit and her dress often hardly covering her limp torso. She was too sick to move so I let her lay her there for about 15minutes while I hosed down the spew on my driveway and washed her shoes.
I couldn’t stand the idea of waking up next to a pile of spew so I drove her back to whatever address she managed to recall to me in her broken, slurred communication.
It ended up being her mum’s place and I carried her lifeless body into the unit and put her onto the couch. I then left with the knowledge that I would never, ever, ever find that girl attractive again.
It also makes me wonder how many girls have seen me like that?