Drunk Texting Should Be Illegal

What’s your toxic trait? Mine is day drinking and then texting the emotionally unavailable men in my life.

I have a few drunk phases, and one of them is dubbed “cute boy phase” where I just non-stop talk about the current guy I’m into or some other hot guy. I once cried over how hot Niall Dimarco was. It’s essentially just a horny drunk Sarah, and whenever I day drink that comes out in FULL FORCE.

Last weekend, I made the fateful mistake to day drink in Boston, and then continue drinking into the night. I mean who do I think I am? I’m not 20 anymore! I’m an old lady, what the fuck did I think I was doing trying to drink for almost 12 fucking hours.

The day started with a DM from the guy I liked for the second half of college, so I did what any girl would do, and ordered 2 bottles of rose with my friends at lunch, and downed glasses of ridiculously priced pink wine.

Now I know what you’re thinking. That I drunk texted this guy. NOPE! Now, while I have been guilty of drunk texting this individual several times, this day was not one of those times. Though, I wish it was. I probably wouldn’t be writing this blog if I had just drunk messaged him.

We continued our day to an outdoor pop-up brewery in the Seaport, where I drank more rose against any better judgment. If you’re in the Boston area and have a chance to go to Cisco Brewery in the Seaport, I highly recommend. It’s dog-friendly, free entry, serves beer and wine, and they have live bands. Shits fucking fire.

Anyways, I spent the rest of the day dabbling in debaucheries (look at that alliteration). Lots of rose was consumed, also several vodka waters, and not nearly enough food or water. Fast forward to apps at Kings Bowling where I forced my friend to come to the bathroom with me to be my lookout while I pulled trig. If you’ve never had the pleasure of being in the bathroom while I puke, let me just tell you, I am not discreet about it. I’m loud as fuck. There’s a lot of wretching and gagging and it’s really a bad scene. But I’m the queen of boot and rally. I’m more likely to stay out all night (or all day) if I do puke than if I don’t puke. I was chugging glasses of sangria immediately after this bathroom excursion.

We ended up at a bar during actual going out hours, and this is where the shit hit the fan. Unfortunately for me, the shit had already kind of hit the fan, but drunk me just decided to pick up a few more piles and throw them willy nilly at the fans surrounding me. Metaphorically of course.

If you’ve been keeping up with my Hinge escapades, you know that I matched with a kid from my hometown back in February and it’s been the strangest experience of my life. We spent a few weeks snapping and texting, but never meeting up or going out, and I finally just decided to say fuck it and ghost him. He continuously snapped me over the past few weeks, even though I never responded, which eventually led to me deleting him off snapchat. Your girl was over it. Until Saturday apparently. Something came over me on Saturday, probably the copious amounts of vodka and wine that I had been consuming, that made me want to text this kid and probably destroy his life.

I said something along the lines of: I’m over this “come over and cuddle bullshit” an actual date would’ve been nice.

He didn’t respond that night. Which was probably for the best because I don’t know what drunk Sarah would’ve done. Drunk me probably would’ve just gone to his house in the hopes of getting attention (we all know what I mean by attention. Subtlety isn’t one of my strengths). He didn’t respond the next day either. I chalked it up to him being pissed off and over me, so I deleted the message thread and moved on with my life.

OR SO I FUCKING THOUGHT.

I’m sitting and watching the Bachelorette, minding my own business, when BOOM. I get a text. Over a week later.

“Movies could be fun”

First off. This is over a week later, I’ve fallen in love with about 6 strangers since I texted you first. I don’t even know what the original message said!!! NO.

Second off. A movies date is hands down the worst first date idea in the god damn world. You can’t talk! Dates, especially first dates, are meant to get to know someone. Movie theaters are one of the only places where it’s basically illegal to talk. You get kicked out if you talk! And if you’re a movie theater talker, there is no way you can keep friends, because clearly, you have no idea what social constructs are.

I just… There’s so much wrong with that text. Part of me wanted to respond immediately and call him out. The more sane part of me just wants to ignore it and do the mature thing and write a blog about it. Can you tell which one I did? Welcome to my life, hoes.


Did you like this post?  You can follow me on Twitter (@biracial_booty), I like to think I’m pretty funny and also I tweet links to my blogs the second they go live (the literal second, I have it done automatically because I’m a social media #superstar). OR you could follow me on Instagram (@biracialbooty), I post more content, including my favorite Podcasts, music, makeup, various body positive posts featuring my chunky self and some of my favorite fat babes, and so much more!

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