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Bring a Sober Friend

Just last week, I had one of the worst experiences of my life. I cannot begin to explain how much of a shock the night’s occurrences were and the fact that I had never expected to feel the way I did, turned what was supposed to a regular night into a life lesson that should be preached to the world and should be used for the betterment of all our lives. 


It was a regular start to the weekend. After work, I got into my car and went into town to meet a few of my friends. After the usual confusion about where we must go to rest our buttocks to converse about our lives, we decided on a bar that we frequent. 


On any other day, I would have sat down, had a few drinks, gotten a little drunk and then would be driven home by the one or two sober individuals who are part of this little gathering for a good night’s rest. This day however, was different. It was an experience I had never been through before and thus, I had no idea that it would be so atrocious. 


Due to certain events in my life, a.k.a to stop the girlfriend kicking me to the curb, I have had to let go of my boozing pleasures. So, on this fateful night, I was joining the circle of sobriety within my group of mates. I now formally apologize, and deeply sympathize with anyone who has ever had to take care of me when I was, as Little John would say, “getting crunk in this bitch”. 


It was a HORRID experience. At the beginning, I had to pay close to the same amount as I would for a proper drink, for something non-alcoholic and frankly, not as nice. Then as the night wore on, I slowly started to get involved in conversations with my “buzzing” mates about things that would never be uttered between two sober men. All sorts of feelings became known, and all secrets came pouring out, some rather disturbing. As the night grew darker and my mates grew drunker; conversations turned into overly emphatic hugs and shouts of “I love you”, “I hate you”, “I have a bigger Johnson!” etc. Very uncomfortable. 


After this, things just kept getting worse. At around 1 am, one of my friends, had consumed a little too much liquor and was attempting to hug the space that had been occupied by a girl around an hour earlier. He literally was hugging the air above the chair where the girl had been sitting, and upon realizing that said girl was not actually present, his loving hugs turned to angry and confused kicks as he tried to break open the chair hoping the girl would be coerced into jumping out of her hiding place within the cushion lining and proceed to lock tongues with him. 


Once the bouncers had successfully kicked us out of the bar, and I had developed some hope of perhaps getting home; more conversations began. It literally took over an hour to convince and at times, trick my mates into getting into the car so that they could be driven home by us sober “chauffeurs”. 


Once home, one of them, very adamantly, demanded that I accompany him to the rest room so that we can bond via communal whizzing. The other just barfed till he had nothing left to barf and then proceeded to pass out into what looked like a very comfortable sleep, leaving me and my sober friend to clean up the mess. After all the messy business was sorted out, and I had reached home at 6 am, I finally got to bed, exhausted after this harrowing night of being a caretaker, chauffer, janitor, and whizz buddy. 


What happened the next day is what really got to me. When I met with the same friends the following evening, they all seemed to be well rested, smiling, and on the whole jolly. Meanwhile I still felt tired, sleepy, and rather cross with all of them. They all laughed about the ridiculous things they did the pervious night, and competed on how much each one of them had drunk. They all claimed that the previous night was one for the books and this just drove me out right crazy. Then I realized; at the end of the night, it’s the sober people who always draw the short straw. They are morally obliged to listen to and take care of their incapacitated friends; they have to be the drivers and take said friends home, and have to ensure that none of them die. It is very sad because, by not drinking, you have less fun, spend the same money, do more work, and have a nerve wracking night at a bar, while your drunken friends have “the time of their lives”. 


I thus have two options, option one: I must get friends who do not drink and spend time with them playing twister and charades at home, while contemplating blowing my brains out. Option two: I get back to my boozing ways and let some other poor sober chap take care of me, drive me home, make sure I stay alive, and accompany me while I whizz. 


I think, all things considered, option two pretty much ensures I have a relaxing and happy weekend, while option one almost directly translates into me committing suicide. I choose option two. Anyone up for a drink? Bring a sober friend.