The Hangover

Total. Fucking. Disaster.

On any given day that's how I could describe my life, my dating situation, my career outlook, my finances, or my physical state. Today, it is the last on that list. Every muscle in my body hurts. Plus my stomach. This has to be a new low. I literally drank until my organs, which are devoid of nerve endings, ache. And I'm sitting at my desk squinting at my computer screen in the dark (please, no lights) because I didn't put in my contacts or bring my glasses with me to the office.

(This approximates how I feel. And probably what I look like)

My last memory from yesterday (this morning?) was playing skee ball at a bar somewhere and holding prize tickets. I don't think I left Manhattan, but this sounds more reminiscent of a Jersey Shore escapade than the high-flying New York social scene. Also, that bar was empty.

The day after a heavy drinking fiasco (and it's always a fiasco) I feel like I could give Sherlock Holmes a run for his money. I wander around my apartment picking up clues (and crumbs), trying to retrace my steps. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to open-- and close-- a bar tab, so I have a receipt stuffed somewhere that records my whereabouts at a certain time. Otherwise, I'm just left to unscramble a myriad of nonsensical text messages to everyone in my phone about topics I can't recall at hours that lead me to wonder why anyone ever bothers maintaining a friendship with me.

This morning was particularly challenging; which is ironic because I'd only gone to bed about three hours earlier and woke up still drunk on top of a little nest of makeup, my ipod, and my glasses. Not only are all three of those things indispensable to my waking life, they've apparently been promoted to rank of Teddy Bear. As I dragged myself out of bed, I was slapped in the face with the memory of a throw-up bonanza that took place sometime between skee ball and cozying up to my spectacles. Now I've vommed in normal places (toilets) the majority of the time, but also in some unusual places (in a lunch bag on a bus in Spain). Last night I managed to just make it on and around the threshold of my room-- floor, doorknob, in a bag from bridal shower favors (no worries, the favors were removed). Luckily, I was with-it enough to clean up after myself. My first rule of throwing up though is to deny it until the end-- no one saw me and I left no trace, so it probably never happened. If I was as good at actually holding my liquor as I am at pretending to hold my liquor I'd move to Russia and participate in those vodka-drinking competitions for money.

Next, I stumbled into the bathroom to see all of my clothing from the day before thrown around on the floor. This can mean only one thing. At some point last night/this morning, I was walking around naked and eating Chex Mix.

(Thank me for all of these lovely visuals later)

And it finally occurred to me today why I'm 26 and as single as I am sober. I'm a disaster and no normal sane man who I'd want to date would ever possibly want to date me. I mean I'm good on paper and I think I clean up OK, but like this poster at my subway stop says, "you are who you are when no one's watching." And when no one's watching me, I'm just a tweak more together than the Hari Krishnas that stand on First and First (spreading their word at the nexus of the universe).

I make proclamations like I'm ready to settle down and then ring in my 26th birthday by throwing up in a bar bathroom and coming out to do Irish Car bombs. I run 25 miles a week to stay in shape and then inhale 3000 calories worth of late-night pizza...that I only remember eating in the first place because the roof of my mouth is incinerated. I use excuses like "skinny arms" as a valid reason to not date incredibly good-looking, successful, wonderful men. Somehow, I've managed to get older and grow down. I thought maturity just came to you; I didn't ever stop to realize that it might be such hard work.

At least I can sleep well on my ipod pillow under my blush blanket knowing that my family will always be there for me:

me: i think i can probably pretty much rest easy that no one is ever going to marry me

im a disaster

brother: hahahahaha

you never know, maybe some guy out there threw up on his floor last night