Your wallet, your keys, your phone – all of them suck to wake up without. But once you start waking up without your dignity? Well, that’s when you need to take the appropriate actions to ensure that you’re not riding front row on the struggle shuttle week-in and week-out.
You can mix in waters all you want, stop day drinking on Saturdays, or switch from doubles to singles. But once midnight hits and you’re looking around at the lack of talent at the bar, your brain is going to default to someone – an ex, a Hinge match from apps past, or someone you went on a Grouper date with back when Grouper was a thing. Whoever they are, you’re going to find them in your phone and text them to see what they’re up to.
And you’re going to regret the hell out of it.
Fortunately for all of us, there are ways to avoid that feeling of dread when you realize what you’ve done.
Delete his (or her) number.
But, like, don’t actually delete their number because that’s something you worked hard to obtain. A friend-who-shall-remain-nameless taught me his no-brainer method: he removed a girl’s number from his contacts and stored it deep away in his notes. If he was sober enough to find it, he was sober enough to make the decision that it was acceptable to text her. If he was too drunk to figure out where the fuck her number actually was, it was time to go back to the party and forget that he even wanted to text her in the first place.
Yeah, sure, there’s going to be that moment where they might text you and you’ll wonder, “Wait, who is this?” And yeah, you’ll squint at your phone and regret ever deleting that number only to respond, “I’m sorry, who is this?” which will prompt them to never talk to you again.
…which kind of solves the problem of drunk texting them altogether.
Get so drunk that you completely lose your motor skills.
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Therefore, if you take the “action” out of the equation, you take the “reaction” out of it as well. It’s called science, learn it for me one time.
You’re obviously not going to magically stop drinking like a sailor every weekend so the only obvious choice is to get so drunk that you can’t physically make your fingers do what you want them to do. You can act like you’re above this method all you want, but this is essentially the same thinking that Uber has when they force you to type in the surge pricing to confirm you’re not a dumbass. If you can enter your passcode, find their name, start a new text, and fire off something regrettable, well, you’re simply not drunk enough and you deserve the wave of anxiety that’ll inevitably hit you the following morning.
Turn your phone’s brightness all the way up so your phone dies before you get drunk enough to send a desperate text.
Complain about your iPhone’s struggling battery all you want, but it’s a saving grace when you’re thirteen vodka-sodas deep with a thirst for that Bumble match you snagged during lunch on Thursday. If you’re going to be swiping right at the bar all night in the first place, swipe that brightness all the way to 11 and watch that phone battery die faster than your chances of a “Getting into anything tonight?” text working at 1:04 a.m. when you’re clearly just looking to get some strange.
Silver lining? The more dead your phone is, the cheaper your Uber will be at the end of the night when your friend is trying to split it with you.
“Yeah, I’ll totally accept the split in the morning when my phone isn’t dead,” you say only to wake up and deny it only to claim it never went through.
Shatter your screen so you can’t read anything.
There are two signs of someone being a hot mess: a shattered iPhone screen, and an iMessage app full of texts that they delete first thing in the morning after a night out. But if you’re going to live that life and risk cutting your fingers every time you send a text, you might as well go full-mess and shatter your phone to the point where you can’t even see what’s coming in unless it’s a phone call that you blindly answer.
Be the hero who drops your phone on a curb, slams it on the table, or throws it across the room for no apparent reason. The broker, the better.
Turn off Siri, though, because slurring, “Text Jake that I want to come over” is going to end with Jake responding and you drunkenly trying to figure out what the hell he said.
Be so hungover from the night before that you’re too hungover to actually be drunk.
Sure, you might get a little pervy when you’re hungover and your mind is functioning at base-level. But come last call when everyone else is trying to figure out who they’re dragging back to their apartment, you’re sitting in bed with re-runs blasting and drool coming out of your mouth. You’ll wake up the next morning with a two-day hangover, but at least you’ll be the one with missed texts rather than embarrassing texts.
Just make sure you remember where you stored his number in your Notes so you know who was texting you in the first place. .
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