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Let me paint a beautiful picture for you. It was way back in the early stages of 2015 when I had just turned 26 on a Friday in the spring. The weather and situation were prime for a blackout. I mean, let’s not forget that you only turn 26 once. It’s something that must be celebrated with the pomp and circumstance that it deserves. I’m talking about a pregame dinner that includes pitchers of margaritas, shots until 2 in the morning, late night pizza, and some fuzzy sex with my girlfriend. The type of event that makes you hate yourself the next morning, but it’s all worth it because it’s all about you.
That was not what my 26th birthday looked like. My birthday included my girlfriend and I, and my friend and his girlfriend. We went to dinner, had a drink or two, and then went to TopGolf. “TopGolf is awesome and a perfect place to get belligerent!” you might be saying to your computer screen right now. You wouldn’t be wrong, but the evening only included a mere bucket of beers, a few hours of golf, and no shots. By the time the night was over, I was not ready to pass out because of the drinks, I was ready to pass out because I was tired. My girlfriend and I didn’t even have sex because I was that exhausted. Hell of a birthday, right?
Now let’s flash forward to this past weekend. One of my friend’s little boys was turning one, and we had received the invitation to the party. Now, I hadn’t been to a one-year-old’s birthday party since my own, and only God knows what went down at it. So I had no idea what to expect. I thought I was about to walk in to a bunch of adults sipping on Chardonnay while everyone gushes about how cute the kid is.
I was met with a fresh of breath air though when things were completely different. After walking in and dropping off the presents on the table, I was met with a margarita, while my girlfriend was given a mimosa in a glass meant for a pint of beer. The drinks didn’t stop either. The kid? Yeah, the parents gave him the cake early on in the party. I’m talking like 15 minutes in just so he could pass out and take a nap while everyone else conversed and drank.
After the little man was out dreaming of all that cake he just devoured, my friend’s mom was bringing out a deck of cards to play Kings Cup. Was she serious? Am I back in my glory days? Are we just here to get drunk? Suddenly, another margarita and mimosa made their way into our hands. And then another. And then another. I lost count at around 5, but I know that we were there for another hour or so where more drinking games were played among the masses.
When was shame supposed to set in that I was getting hammered drunk, a semi OTPHJ, and having no regard for the food I was putting into my body (throw a pan of peanut butter brownies in front of me and no one is going to get a bite) all while a sweet, innocent child was sleeping in the room next door? It never did, but I’m forever thankful that my friend’s wife was sober and dropped my girlfriend and I off at our hotel a few miles away so we could not create our own little child.
Needless to say, I’m pressing my married friends to start popping out kids just so I can go to the 1st birthday party. Those things are fuckin’ awesome..