Tuesday, November 21, 2006


This weekend started out so promising and ended in a spectacular kamikaze of drunk rage and bruised egos!

Friday and Saturday night, I had two different housewarming parties that I was invited to. At the housewarming on Saturday, my friend and I were none too impressed with the lack of men at the party (it was attended by lots of nurses and midwives though) and so, we headed over to a local bar for a drink. At the bar, my friend introduced me to something called a "French martini". Do we have those in Canada? It was like drinking liquid gold - only extremely potent and dangerous because it tasted like lollipops.

Sunday afternoon I met up with my friends, Lauren and Kate, to get some brunch. On their way to meet me at the local grease joint, Kate and Lauren ran into our mutual friends Irish Mike and Erica - which was a bit odd considering that they live on the Southside of Glasgow. Nevertheless, Irish Mike seemed to be acting strange and would not commit to meeting up with us later.

Over scrambled eggs and toast, we worked out that Irish Mike was going to pop the question to Erica, whom he has been dating for about 5 years (i think). Turns out we were right because we got a text telling us to come meet him and his fiancee at the pub around the corner. So, Kate, Lauren, myself and John (whom we just happened to bump into on the street), headed over to the pub to celebrate. We arrived around 2.30pm and were later joined by even more friends.

And so, from about 3pm until 6pm, i had had several glasses of champagne, wine, and a bit of cider. But you know, your friends only get engaged once (or so you hope). At about 6pm my friends reminded me that i had a hot date with the Cute Boy in a Kilt that i met the other night. At this point, i was pretty tipsy but feeling good so i headed home to get ready for the date.

At 7pm my date picked me up and i forewarned him that i had been drinking all afternoon - in celebration, mind you. Everything seemed cool; we chatted, flirted, and he drove me past the Catholic church he attends every Sunday (gulp).

Before I go any further - have y'all seen that episode of Sex and the City where Miranda goes out with this really cute Detective, only she's so nervous because she thinks that he is way out of her league and so she proceeds to get really wasted on the date?

Ok. Well picture that scene but worse.

We ordered a bottle of wine and by the time it finishes, i am pretty hosed but i thought i was handling the sauce quite well. Once the bottle is finished, my date puts his arm around me and asked me if i wanted to go back to his flat for some wine there.

Completely wasted, mouth agape, and taken aback, i replied, "NO. I BARELY KNOW YOU AND YOU'RE ASKING ME BACK ALREADY?!?"

Yep, i was pretty much a drunken crazy beast.

i think i then accused him of being a player and trying to sleep with as many women as possible with little regards for their emotional well-being. i can't be sure though. You know, as awful as my drunk rage was, what kinda dude asks a drunk girl back to his flat on the first date? And really, if he was a wholesome Catholic boy he probably wouldn't have suggested it in the first place. It might have been harsh and my reaction might have lacked grace, but i think that my fears of him being a player seemed to become reality. Or the drunk reality at that time. i think, more than anything, i was disappointed and channeled it into psycho female drunk rage.

Needless to say we're not going out again.

Oh, and Mom, don't worry - i emailed him an apology and he accepted. i still maintain some of the manners you installed in me.


KENT! said...

"But you know, your friends only get engaged once (or so you hope)"


Jennifer said...

Eh, not you i suppose! ;)