There goes the fear…..

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I’ve no doubt mentioned this before, but I don’t really drink anymore which means I don’t really go out-out anymore. I still go to gigs and stuff but my days of getting extremely drunk are well behind me thanks to the fact it plays havoc with my mental health and it takes far too long to get back on an even keel.

That said, there are odd occasions where I have the urge to go back to my old ways and have a night of debauchery – and this Friday was one of those nights. My friend Jema and I had it planned for quite a while and I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks. Bands, booze and a dance floor; the perfect night out. And because they don’t happen very often anymore, I really built it up in my head – one night of letting my hair down and just forgetting all my silly anxieties and worries was very much needed and I was determined to enjoy every second.

Thankfully, I did and it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time – special mention to the sublime Yala! Records lads for playing all my favourite indie classics and even allowing me to belt out a bit of Celine Dion. Jema and I pretty much spent the whole night on the dance floor flinging ourselves around in the most ungraceful manner and loved it.

As always I didn’t really adhere to my plan of not drinking too much – double vodkas seemed like the best idea and I dread to think how many we bought (the joys of contactless). The more I drank the more the old feelings of anxiety and lack of confidence came so of course the most sensible idea was to just drink more. I was admittedly very nervous before we got there – knowing it would be full of very effortlessly cool people, (who unlike me hadn’t taken four hours to get ready only to hate how they looked by the end of said effort) but I persevered and everyone was very friendly (of course I felt that I stuck out like a sore thumb all night, but hey what’s new there).

So yeah, alcohol. It’s a real shit. It lulls you in to this false sense of security where you feel more confident under its spell, then it stabs you in the back with a large dose of humiliation and self hatred and you spend the rest of the night tessellating between the two. Oh god did I say something stupid? Did I embarrass myself? Were people laughing at me? Etc. And if that wasn’t enough, it makes you drop your phone and smash the screen!

It’s taken me a couple of days to get over the hangover – both physically and emotionally. Yesterday was a bit of a void and I felt like I was standing on the precipice of  an existential crisis; but thankfully I pulled it back and didn’t completely fall to pieces.

I really did have so much fun and that’s the annoying part – the comedown afterwards. You spend months waiting for a night and then it’s gone and you feel like you’re never going to have fun again.

 

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