Tuesday - Reflections After The Mirror
Sep. 5th, 2006 02:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was still thinking about the purse and the mirror that were on my mind on Friday. Jeff came to the same conclusion as everyone else: they both must be destroyed.
We were driving back from my father's house and I was telling him the story. I hadn't told him before because he looks down his nose at cocaine use (no pun intended), and I was protecting Patty and Bryan from his scorn. When I got to the part about the guy licking my mirror and handing it back to me, Jeff started to laugh.
"Who does that sort of thing?" I moaned.
He was still chuckling. "Cokeheads."
Drunks have more decency than that. Potheads have more decency than that. I'm not sure what makes cokeheads so depraved, and I don't care. The fact is, because of this, I don't lend out mirrors any more.
"See? See why I had to get rid of them as friends? I had to! They were horrible."
"I understand." He patted my leg sympathetically.
The night of the Rogue Tongue, I was pretty tipsy from tequila, which is probably why I accepted the mirror back instead of telling Tongue Man he could keep it. It was only after I sobered up that disgust over what he had done began to seep in. Not only did I feel disgusted, I felt oddly sick. I didn't know it yet, but something that would change my life, my outlook and my willingness to put up with the shenanigans of Patty and Bryan had already begun to grow about a week before.
It was a little after midnight and, while Patty and Bryan were suddenly bright eyed and bushy tailed from the nose candy, I felt drowsy from the alcohol. I'm not a big drinker, and I've never been the sort to pass out, much less pass out in a stranger's home. But I felt a little off, so I sat down on a futon in the front room, where the lights were out and I could be alone while Patty and Bryan climbed the walls elsewhere. Within moments, I was dead to the world. Patty and Bryan found me at 4 A.M. when they were ready to go home, and woke me up.
"Hey, you okay?" Patty asked.
"I don't feel so good," I said as I struggled to my feet.
"You all right to drive?"
We came in my car. We went everywhere in my car. Neither of their cars was reliable.
"Yes," I said, even though I wasn't sure of it. I knew I was sober, since I had slept off any lingering buzz. I didn't trust either of them to drive my car.
The next morning, I woke up feeling like death warmed over. My head ached, my stomach felt queasy, and I just felt run down in general. I wondered if it was a hangover. One of my favorite parts about being me if that I have always been immune to hangovers. I've seen other people nurse themselves through them, and they looked miserable. The next-day result of a night of drinking has always been that I will sleep late and then bounce out of bed feeling fit and fine. It was enough to make certain ex-roommates despise me. A lifetime's worth of empathy flooded through me for everyone who glared at me with hatred through bloodshot eyes the morning after a binge. I kind of hated my previous self, too. I realized that there is something inherently self righteous about a person who doesn't get a handover when they've done everything to earn one. No wonder people wouldn't talk to me until days after they felt better again.
When the hangover stretched into a few days, I changed my mind and decided I must be really sick. Annoyingly, the sickness stretched into a couple of weeks. After a couple of weeks, my period didn't come. A light bulb began to flicker dimly on over my head about what might be going on with my body. A month from this Friday, Mommy's Little Hangover will turn 2 years old.
Now I have a son and a different life perspective. I care more about the kind of people I hang out with and what my priorities are. Amidst the upheaval of an unplanned baby, he brought with him more joy and delight than I can put into words. Almost as important as all of this, though, is the fact that I only felt so sick because I was pregnant, which means that my immunity to hangovers still stands, should I ever find the opportunity to cut lose again.
You can't imagine how worried I was about that.
We were driving back from my father's house and I was telling him the story. I hadn't told him before because he looks down his nose at cocaine use (no pun intended), and I was protecting Patty and Bryan from his scorn. When I got to the part about the guy licking my mirror and handing it back to me, Jeff started to laugh.
"Who does that sort of thing?" I moaned.
He was still chuckling. "Cokeheads."
Drunks have more decency than that. Potheads have more decency than that. I'm not sure what makes cokeheads so depraved, and I don't care. The fact is, because of this, I don't lend out mirrors any more.
"See? See why I had to get rid of them as friends? I had to! They were horrible."
"I understand." He patted my leg sympathetically.
The night of the Rogue Tongue, I was pretty tipsy from tequila, which is probably why I accepted the mirror back instead of telling Tongue Man he could keep it. It was only after I sobered up that disgust over what he had done began to seep in. Not only did I feel disgusted, I felt oddly sick. I didn't know it yet, but something that would change my life, my outlook and my willingness to put up with the shenanigans of Patty and Bryan had already begun to grow about a week before.
It was a little after midnight and, while Patty and Bryan were suddenly bright eyed and bushy tailed from the nose candy, I felt drowsy from the alcohol. I'm not a big drinker, and I've never been the sort to pass out, much less pass out in a stranger's home. But I felt a little off, so I sat down on a futon in the front room, where the lights were out and I could be alone while Patty and Bryan climbed the walls elsewhere. Within moments, I was dead to the world. Patty and Bryan found me at 4 A.M. when they were ready to go home, and woke me up.
"Hey, you okay?" Patty asked.
"I don't feel so good," I said as I struggled to my feet.
"You all right to drive?"
We came in my car. We went everywhere in my car. Neither of their cars was reliable.
"Yes," I said, even though I wasn't sure of it. I knew I was sober, since I had slept off any lingering buzz. I didn't trust either of them to drive my car.
The next morning, I woke up feeling like death warmed over. My head ached, my stomach felt queasy, and I just felt run down in general. I wondered if it was a hangover. One of my favorite parts about being me if that I have always been immune to hangovers. I've seen other people nurse themselves through them, and they looked miserable. The next-day result of a night of drinking has always been that I will sleep late and then bounce out of bed feeling fit and fine. It was enough to make certain ex-roommates despise me. A lifetime's worth of empathy flooded through me for everyone who glared at me with hatred through bloodshot eyes the morning after a binge. I kind of hated my previous self, too. I realized that there is something inherently self righteous about a person who doesn't get a handover when they've done everything to earn one. No wonder people wouldn't talk to me until days after they felt better again.
When the hangover stretched into a few days, I changed my mind and decided I must be really sick. Annoyingly, the sickness stretched into a couple of weeks. After a couple of weeks, my period didn't come. A light bulb began to flicker dimly on over my head about what might be going on with my body. A month from this Friday, Mommy's Little Hangover will turn 2 years old.
Now I have a son and a different life perspective. I care more about the kind of people I hang out with and what my priorities are. Amidst the upheaval of an unplanned baby, he brought with him more joy and delight than I can put into words. Almost as important as all of this, though, is the fact that I only felt so sick because I was pregnant, which means that my immunity to hangovers still stands, should I ever find the opportunity to cut lose again.
You can't imagine how worried I was about that.
