I used to be a not very fun drunk.
You know those people who get happy and become the life of the party once they are inebriated? That’s not me. I sulk, I sit in a corner, I kill the mood. But that’s only when I am in a crowd. Usually I get sleazy.
That was the old me, when my social calendar was filled with parties, kickbacks, club- and bar-hopping. My nights centered around nursing a glass of Long Island, AMF, Sex on the Beach, or mai tai. Or double fisting bottles of beer.
Then I calmed down. I got tired of the night life pretty quick. I wanted to just settle down at home with my guy, maybe share a bottle of wine, and relish the peace and solitude away from the lights and noise of the party scene.
Then I found I was a different kind of drunk then. While mixed drinks and hard liquor depressed me, wine and beer brought out the loud and caged me. I sang along to songs on the radio LOUDLY, horsed around like I didn’t care about bruises, and…lately, immersed myself in a (bubble) bath for hours.
I prefer that.