Drunk Texts

-- Just had to tell about Dani's Saturday night, so here is a bonus post, enjoy! Happy weekend xoxo --

Elena came over around 8 Friday night to help me choose an outfit for Jeff’s party, and to down a few glasses of vino for liquid courage. We didn't know many people attending besides a handful of coworkers and we (okay I) intended to charm the pants off this new pool of men. 

“The black jeans and the sheer green top is my vote,” Elena said while taking a swig of her pinot grigio. She was wearing sheer tights, a tight skirt with a cool aztec print and a flimsy white tank top under a leather jacket. I’d already spent twenty minutes trying to convince her to give me her outfit to no avail. The girl looked great. 

I regarded myself in the mirror, wearing the outfit she suggested. Throwing on a necklace and my highest heels added to the ensemble. “Alright, you win oh fashion guru,” I said while reaching for my own leather jacket (faux-leather, both my morals and my wallet were against the real deal). We hobbled down the stairs in our shoes and luckily found a cab within moments of stepping out my door. Oh New York, you’re so good to me sometimes. 

We walked into the club, and found Jeff’s roped-off section towards the back. It was only 10 p.m. but the space was already packed. I found Jeff in the corner with a blonde on his arm and we made our way over to say hello. I kissed him on his scruffy cheek and could already smell the alcohol on him.

“Happy 25th birthday boy!” I said draping my arm around him. “What are we drinking?”

He grinned back at me, eyes already a bit glassy from the alcohol. The blonde on his other arm was sizing me up uncomfortably. “There's a full station of bottles set up over there, but if you’re headed that way I wouldn't mind a whisky ginger,” he grinned charmingly at me. Elena and I found our way over to the bar and began assembling drinks. I poured myself my favorite, Jim Beam and diet, and we settled into two open seats along the booth-lined wall. 

“Where has Jeff been hiding these many many men,” Elena whispered to me. I scanned the room for the first time, and found it lined with Jeff look-a-likes. Tons of well dressed guys with just a hint of scruff were dotting the perimeter, but one in particular caught my eye. He had longish brown hair, blue eyes and looked just the tiniest bit out of place. 

“Shotty,” I said, gesturing towards the mystery man. Elena waited the appropriate five seconds before sliding her eyes to the left. 

“Yummy, but too short for me so no worries,” she winked back at me.

“Short? Okay stretch, not all of us are 5'9"!” That was the one good thing about my short stature- being 5'3" allowed me to never have to worry about a potential suitor’s height. As long as he was over 5'10", I was sold. However, it also came with the shortest legs on the planet which I spent hours trying to disguise with inappropriately high heels. 

We finished our drinks and another before starting to mingle. Between the two scotch and cokes plus the pre-party wine, I was definitely feeling buzzed. I was mentally willing mystery man to come over to me, but he had been engrossed in conversation with three other people for the past hour. Elena and I decided to make a bathroom trip right before the cake was set to come out - yes, he got a cake. Twenty bucks says strippers pop out.

“Ugh it’s so hot in there. Why haven’t you spoken to MM?” Elena asked me while reapplying her lipstick. Yes, I had known Mystery Man all of two hours and we already had a code name for him #whitegirlproblems. 

“I can’t just walk up to him!” I said, digging in my clutch for my perfume. If MM was going to approach me, the least I could do was smell good. I grabbed my phone when I saw it was lighting up with a message.

So either you hate me, or you didn’t get my flowers. I’m going to hope it was the latter.

My heart started beating a million miles an hour just seeing his name on my phone screen. That name that used to appear every hour on the hour, and had now been hauntingly absent for months. 

“What is it?” Elena asked, seeing me frozen with my phone in hand. I silently showed her the screen. She had spent enough lunches with me whining over him, and had helped me through the break up so she knew the whole story.

“Wow, ballsy,” she remarked, turning her attention from the phone to my face. She placed it directly back in my purse. “You’re not responding tonight. You’re drunk, and he’ll just ruin the evening. Let’s go back out there and get MM’s number.” She grabbed my arm and yanked me back towards the party, leaving all thoughts of Nick in the bathroom.


The next morning, I woke up with a heavy feeling in my chest. It took me a minute to collect my thoughts from the night before. Shit. I thought, reaching for my phone. After Elena and I had emerged from the bathroom, most of the night was a blur. I remembered dancing with MM (whose real name is Bray, for those of you wondering) and him asking for my number before I realized my sloppy self desperately needed a cab home. It was during that silent cab ride that the scotch decided to text Nick back.

Maybe something in between 

I had written, before turning my phone off. I silently thanked drunk me for leaving it at that, even if it didn't make much sense. As the phone booted up, I braced myself to see his name on the screen. I was equal parts relieved and disappointed when the only text was from MM er, Bray asking me if I’d made it home okay. I texted him that I had, and that it was great meeting him. 

Later that morning, I was on my way to meet Ash for brunch when my coat pocket buzzed. The phone I was beginning to despise alerted me that it was Nick.

Well, I meant what I said in the card. And if you’re willing to let me I’d love to take you for a drink this week. Please. 

I shoved the phone deep back into my pocket, this was not okay. You can’t just go around missing me and texting me when I was finally getting my life back together. I even had a date with Bray for Tuesday. I was beginning to relate to Carrie when she accused Mr. Big of having a beeper that goes off everytime she’s happy. I hung my head down and walked quickly towards the restaurant. There was no problem that my best friend and a ham omelette couldn't solve.