Drunk Therapy ALWAYS Ends Badly

I went to a birthday party Saturday night at a friend’s house.

Great music. Good food. Since I only had a few beers, I remained in a sober state. A state that allowed me to view my friends as they… well… got drunk. Which is always such a joy and a prime opportunity for future black mailing.

It’s hilarious the things people will say or admit after a few cocktails. The truth always seems to surface. The bold questions somehow don’t seem so bold. And the answers seem to spill out so easily. Wives openly discuss how their husbands fall short of their expectations and husbands complain how they don’t have sex anymore. And then just a few minutes later, they’re dirty dancing together on the back deck.

I had an interesting conversation with two friends.

A conversation that was sprinkled throughout the night. One friend is a female and the other, a male. Both drunk and both of which I’ve known for 20 years. The conversation was about my lack of a man in my life. As I sat there in the hot seat, they darted questions towards me in hopes to solve my “problem” before the night’s end.

I soon began shooting back. Defending myself against statements like “You need to figure out what you’re doing wrong” and clichés like “It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.” For the record, these are not the best things to say. It’s like saying after someone dies: “At least they’re in a better place.” True or not, it just doesn’t help.

At some point during this therapy session with my two intoxicated friends, the bold questions started to emerge. My female friend stumbles towards my ear and whispers the slurred words, “Are you sure you’re not in love with him after all these years?” The “him” was referring to the third person in this conversation. One of my closest friends. A 20 year platonic friendship.

I take a step back…

“Are you serious?”

“It’s a logical question.”

“No. Nooooo. Noooooo.”

This then takes another comical turn. He, not knowing what she asked me, says…

“Did she ask you if you’re gay?”

“WHAT?”

“Is that what she asked you?”

”Are you now suggesting that not having a man means I’m gay???”

As humorous and waaaay off mark as this was, I quickly shut this therapy session down. Short of humping the next guy who walked by, I didn’t feel I could properly defend myself. I was backed into a corner and so I began waving my white flag.

I like drunk people.

If I never take another sip of an alcoholic beverage, I’m still hanging out with those who do. They provide humor to my life in a way that is impossible without tequila.

I must say the wobbly birthday girl held her ground very well. As I told her that night, she is the most graceful drunk I’ve ever seen. Who knows how many apple martinis she had, but she swaggered with eloquence and remained poised throughout the evening.

And I told her exactly how truly envious I am.