It’s Thirsty Thursday and I rang in the new day with the remnants of a 20 ml bottle of Jameson and a series of unanswered text messages to the guy I’m throwing myself at. (Yeah, that preposition is at the end of the sentence. Judge your mother!)

Anyway, as I polish off the last of this Irish Whiskey I find myself itching and sneezing. Uh Oh. What’s that? THE FEELS.

An instantaneous series of complaints revolving around what I wish I was doing, wondering what other people are doing, and how awesome it would be if I was “doing it“– and doing it well– flood to the forefront of my mind. 

Before I knew it, I had found myself on a journey I wasn’t quite ready for so I decided to document this tirade in a post for you, because we’ve all had these thoughts while buzzed, right? Right?!

I feel guilty

Who drinks alone anyway? I’ll tell you. An alcoholic. 

Now, I’m not just talking about the after work glass of wine once you’ve finally put the kids to bed and put your feet up while watching Scandal. I’m talking about that turn up drink you have when you had a rough week, and your best friend is celebrating an engagement or promotion or some other milestone that reminds you that your life sucks. And the only way to cope is to knock back several Cinnamon Toast Crunch shots until you’re laying on a bar letting a fat guy with a beard take a body shot from your pierced belly button all in the name of “celebration.”

Like, why the hell ever would you “turn up” alone?

Meanwhile, you know your ass should be somewhere responding to an email or plotting your next butt kissing plot to cozy up to your obnoxious boss. But nooooo, you’re here, drinking whiskey, because you’re bored and you think it’ll make you feel better. But really, all it does is make you feel worse, because you’re still alone with your thoughts and they’re scary.

It’s no fun without someone to goof off with

Remember that wild night I described above? You’re not having that when you drink alone. So all these clever one-liners you’re coming up with are falling on the deaf ears of Twitter lurkers. You know, the folk who see your tweets and they know that shit is funny, but they’re “too cool” to respond because they told their bae that they were asleep and can’t blow their cover.

Then when they wake up in the morning (assuming they ever went to sleep, because the lurkers be watching ) they’re all posting about how lonely people get at night.

Bruh, you only know that because you too are lonely in that empty relationship you’re carrying out for your social media followers and those family members who are always asking, “So when are you two getting married?”

We both know the date is Nevuary, 33rd 3015. 

See?! My drinking partner would’ve fell on the floor laughing at this if she were here. But she’s not. So I’m taking another swig. Mooooving right along…

I get horny

Let’s be honest, most people have regrettable sex the night they’ve done too much drinking. If you’re sober, you know better.

Alcohol makes everyone involuntarily lower their inhibitions, and so our truest natures come out to play. We’re animals. We just happen to have emotions and the ability to over-think. It is our right– no, it is our duty to buss it open every once in a while as we see fit. But damnit! All those rules we self-impose as a society. And those fucking emotions!

I know I want sex just as bad as these guys who are trying every trick in the book to see if I’ll give them a shot at making me climb a wall. Sorry! I’m too busy still hung up on the last guy I let make my head 360. I’m in no rush to go there again… unless, of course, it’s with him. But alas, he’s not responding to my text telling him that I want to ride him like the fucking Iron Rattler. Ugh!

I get emotional

Anything that has ever made me sad or angry in life, no matter how deeply buried the shit is, always manages to bubble to the top of my mind when I’m drinking alone. *Cue the dramatics.*

That fish I had when I was in second grade that died when we went on vacation was my first brush with death, and I can’t handle the memories of the good times we shared. What was his name again?

Or that one time in high school when my clique moved my lunch tray from “our” table to signal that I was no longer welcome in the group? Yeah. Still stings. (True story, too. Only, I don’t really care anymore. I’m BobbyPen, bitches!)

Why do we become teary-eyed, blabbering babies when we drink? At least usually I get someone to rub my back or tell me to pull it together when I’m with my girls. Nope. Not tonight. So let the feelings fly!

I get too drunk

When you drink alone, there’s noone there to pass the bottle to or otherwise help you pace yourself– even if that’s them drinking too much first and you seeing all the crazy shit in them that I just described above. (That always tends to sober me up. Like “Yo, she buggin’. Let me chill. Somebody’s got to drive.”)

Then you wake up in the morning with the illest headache, but you’ve got to suck it up and go face that dickhead boss who signs your check every two weeks. By the way, is it payday tomorrow?

SWISH! Happy Hour on deck!

How do you feel when you drink alone? Let me know below!

ps. Did you like this? If so, tell me and tell your friends so I can go on more crazy rants. I think about wild shit like this all the time, so it’s no sweat. Just ask