  I feel really bad that I chose this week to curb my drinking considering my roommate and very dear friend was celebrating his birthday. He's a drinker. All my friends are. I knew they'd all be out and wasted. But if I can resist the birthday night, then the rest should be easy. Dinner was fine.
I decided I could have one glass of wine. But then, it was off to the bar. And guess what? It was an open bar. Fuck. I couldn't even use my financial excuse as a reason to why I couldn't drink.
And believe me. My drunk friends demanded reasons. Sarah and I hung out in the back where it wasn't packed and we could sit down. We talked about music, relationships, music video ideas, life. Things. The kind of things drunks don't, or can't discuss.
It was nice. But honestly, it was a struggle to be social while sober. Naturally, I am very very shy. Insanely shy. And quiet. People think I am mean sometimes.
But I'm really just timid. Taciturn. That's the word. I like it when Spoon sings, "we seek out the taciturn. " Mr. Daniels must not have been there, because no one really sought me out. Scott Stereogum showed up.
Apparently I called him Steve last Saturday. I was very drunk that night. This is why I want to stop drinking. Rude things like this. Scott, obviously, was not avoiding drinks like me. He was tipsy.
He wanted others to be tipsy too. He even offered to buy drinks and seeing how it was an open bar, it didn't seem too rude to accept. When he asked me what I wanted, I told him a Shirley Temple. He returned later with a Gin & Tonic. Apparently, bartenders don't actually make Shirley Temples. I went back and forth about whether this one drink would be a slippery slope, but I needed a social lubricant.
I was feeling awkward. I drank it. Then. Scott's friend managed to actually get me a Shirley Temple. They're good! Having a large drink to nurse and hold helped me feel like I was fitting in a bit better and I became a bit more social.
Or maybe the gin kicked in. Either way, I was doing ok. So many people showed up to wish Mr. Red a happy birthday. It was really an amazing turnout. Friends of mine, friends of his. At least a dozen very close friends, and all of my best ones.
They were all drunk as fuck. I did my best to hang with the conversations and slurs but it was odd. I didn't realize just how drunk we all got. Scott showed up again. This time with tequila shots. he didn't get me one, as he knew I wouldn't want one, but Sarah said if she did hers, she'd puke, so I did it.
I don't let alcohol go to waste. I talked a bit more, looked at my watch, and a funny thing happened. Reason kicked in. It was getting late, (12:30!!! Fuck, thats when I usually show up to a bar! ), so I decided to go home and sleep.
After all, I do have work at 9am. This is odd for me. I have half Fridays. My usual philosophy is that I can get through 4 hours with the severest of hangovers and usually stay out til 4am on a Thursday night. But I'm also trashed when I decide that. So anyway.
I took the subway home. I know from experience that usually the craziness happens late and the sober ones miss it. I wonder what I'm missing. more than anything, I am just scared of missing the shared experience of so many friends, especially on someone's birthday. I will hear a tale instead of telling one. That makes me sad.
But then again, I didn't steal or break anything. I didn't obnoxiously harass girls. I wasn't crass or lewd. i didn't insult anyone. I didn't bruise myself. In short, I didn't do any damage to me, or to other people.
I can't remember a night out where that didn't happen. Maybe I'll enjoy being the voyeur and hearing the tale from someone elses mouth. But on the other hand. What the fuck am I going to write about on here now? That was my life. That was Greg the Boyfriend. 
