OK, I know—bragging about how much you drank in college puts you one degree lower on the Sad-O-Tron than that high school friend who never moved out, gained 40 pounds on Chili's happy hour apps and tries to pick up perimenopausal social workers.
So rather than telling you the (albeit awesome) story of the time a campus security guard bodily hauled me out of a cherry tree in my underpants, I'm just going to leave it at this: I was a bit of a Notorious Partier in college. Which is why it surprised everybody when, junior year, I started seeing a straight-edge guy. Lemondrop: Smart Women Drink More
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Things started out pretty great. Comparative fondness for Wild Turkey aside, we had a lot in common. We both loved "The Last Starfighter," Merzbow, the color black and bitterly hating our exes. We'd hang out, watch really awful horror movies and talk about comic books. Lemondrop: 10 Ways Alcohol Impairs Your Judgement
But ultimately, my constitutional inability to say no to a drinking contest drove a boozy wedge between us: One night, I knocked on his door around 2 a.m. He opened it slowly, like a butler at a haunted mansion. Lemondrop: 10 Ways Alcohol Impairs Your Judgement
"Feel like gettin' lucky?" I enunciated perfectly, careful not to use any sibilant consonants.
He gave me a straight-out-of-"Angela's-Ashes" look of torment. "You're drunk, aren't you?"
Uh, of course I'm drunk, I thought. It's Thursday.
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Written by Julieanne Smolinski for Lemondrop