Always Get Drunk At The Debs

For those of you that don't know, be you American or otherwise, the Debs is pretty much the prom. Same thing. Formal evening with dancing and drinking. Well I don't know if there's drinking at the prom, but there is at the debs. And lots of it.

Now before I give any impression otherwise, I had a fantastic time at my debs. My date was both gorgeous and a deadly laugh, as she always is. But unfortunately I had, and still have, a big thing for her, which she didn't and still doesn't know.

I told myself before the debs that I wouldn't drink anything alcoholic. That went out the window after about an hour, when I started nicely with a double vodka. I continued from there, but, rather surprisingly given that I'd never drank before in any quantity, I didn't get drunk. Oh how I wish I had.

So I didn't get drunk at my debs. So what? I'll tell you so what. My date did. Which is the real problem. It was fine right up til the end. It was so much fun and she was even more crazy than usual. Towards the end of the night she got sick from drinking too much, and still it was fine. But then came the dreaded depression.

She asked me why I'd brought her. I told her it was cos I knew I'd have a laugh with her and all I wanted was a good time. She asked me was I glad I brought her. I said yes. She asked why. I told her it was cos I'd had a great night. She told me I could've had a great night with anyone, reeling off a few names of some of my other friends. I told her she was more fun then them, and more beautiful too.

And she started to cry. That was not what I expected. And even that wasn't so bad. She asked me to hold her. It just felt so perfect, sitting there on the ground outside, holding this girl in my arms under the night sky.

Then she started to talk about why she'd come. She told me how all she wanted was to give me a night to remember, to get me to have a good time, cos she really liked me and only wanted me to be happy. And she'd ruined it.

It was extremely painful for three reasons. First of all, she hadn't ruined my night. I'd had a great time cos of her and it wouldn't have been the same with anyone else. Secondly, I really liked her too and I told her so, which I'm never able to do. Third, and most painful of all, was that I knew that she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, and I'd never know if she'd meant what she said in her drunken state. I'd know she told me she liked me and never know if it was true or not, and she'd never know I liked her. It still pains me these months later.

What does this have to do with me not getting drunk you might ask? Well, it's very simple. If I'd been drunk I wouldn't have remembered that conversation ever happening, It would've saved me a lot of heartache. So my advice to you, good people, always get drunk at your debs. Or any other social gathering where you foresee a similar situation arising. It's worth the hangover to alleviate the pain of the other.

So for everyone who wishes to avoid the situation I'm in, go out right now and get plastered. It's too late for me, but you can still save yourselves.