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I didn’t have a whole lot of energy rolling into last weekend. I keep doing this thing where I’ll go out on Thursday night and then go to work Friday morning with a violent hangover that doesn’t really subside until later afternoon. It’s not a great strategy, but I’m trying my best to be a little more responsible. I’ll get there one day. I might even stop drunk texting my ex-girlfriend at some point, but that’s something future me can worry about.
By the end of the workday on Friday, I was totally drained and had already talked myself into staying in. I got off of work right around 5:00 p.m. and started my walk back from the train stop when I began receiving a barrage of snaps and tweets from readers buying Michelob Ultra. It was at this point that I knew I had no chance of staying in that night. I switched my Spotfiy station on my phone from “Smooth Jazz” to “Heaters” (which is just “Closer” on repeat) and I began my night.
I got a little excited. After retweeting several pictures of people living the #UltraLife, I took a walk down to my corner liquor store and picked up a case of the low-calorie beer designed for athletes. By 8:00 p.m., I was dressed and ready to follow my roommate to a bar in the downtown Chicago area that is, for lack of a better term, not my scene. I can’t wear Birkenstocks with wool socks anywhere downtown. Bouncers don’t allow anyone in wearing anything too outlandish, and if you haven’t already guessed, the bar that I chose to attend with my friend was a place where every guy was wearing a button down and jeans.
The aforementioned friend had hooked me and five other people (three of which were very attractive girls) up with four free drink tickets apiece. I started out drinking vodka soda and by the time I had finished the first one, I was talking to one of the three girls who seemed to be interested in me.
We spoke at length about women’s fashion, the difference between a Michelob Ultra and every other light beer on the market, and why Emily Ratajkowski is the hottest person on Planet Earth. We were hitting it off and that is putting it mildly. We basically ignored the rest of the group for two hours, and by the time each of us had used up our drink tickets the rest of the group was ready to go to another bar. We left the bar together, her hand clutching mine as we shared a cigarette and continued talking.
“I know some people here,” she said. “Let me give you my number in case I lose you tonight.”
We stood in line, the seven of us, for about five minutes before a guy with jet black hair and a beard emerged from a side door, waving us in.
“John, this is my boyfriend, Mark.”
I shook his hand, confused and a little bit upset. This girl was all over me fifteen minutes ago and now she’s introducing me to her boyfriend? I really cannot catch a break.
The next hour was uneventful. I bought myself a twelve dollar vodka soda and then called myself an Uber home. Fast asleep on my air mattress by 1:30 a.m.
Where this story gets interesting is the next night. I’m sitting in my living room, preparing myself for another night of hard drinking when I get a text message from this girl.
“Hey brittany. Whats up”
“Not too much, i’m still pretty hungover actually. Would you want to get dinner next week?”
“Ummm yeah sure i’m down.”
“Sure, why the hell not. I haven’t had sushi in forever.”
“Perfect. Let’s plan on wednesday night around 7?”
“lol okay tyte see you on wednesday”
I can feel you all judging me right now. If I was a decent human I’d probably tell this girl I’m not comfortable going out with her knowing that she has a boyfriend. But I’m not a decent human, and I’m not going to lose any sleep over whatever happens on Wednesday night. Judge away, it’s not going to change the fact that I have a date on Wednesday. .