The idea of a night out to me sounds fantastic. It can be empowering and I can enjoy the confidence that I can wake up with the next morning, well most of the time anyway. Last night was one of those nights and I awoke this morning feeling refreshed and still a little drunk, the irony is that last night I did all the things that I should not have done. I drunk my body mass, I messaged all the people I love and was way too honest, I messaged the guy I franticly wanted to have sex with, I tweeted about being awfully drunk, tripped and fell, spoke to people I didn’t know, stumbled out of the club, and took hideous pictures to remind me of the night.
I started the night by joining a friend I hadn’t seen in about 5 years, I enjoyed the company of her friends and we enjoyed her birthday drinks reminiscing about the time we spent together in London. The people we jointly knew, their lives, their gossip and of course what we really thought them. The things that we thought best kept at the time. Out of the people we discussed two become the topic of deep conversation. These two girls, two sisters had apparently struck as both as spiteful and considering the amount of time we spent with them back then never discussed what we thought would become of them. We both were correct in our then made evaluations of them. Not having the courage to discuss them then made me wonder how honest our relationship was. Truth be told our friendship 5 years ago was important and needed. Important because we both became each other’s get away and needed because of exactly the same reason. I guess we all need people that retract us from our corrupt state of mind, who we can act around and keep secrets from. After much reminiscing was done we indulged in a conversation about our present lives, the changes, the boyfriends who became ex’s, the family and work. We shared what could be considered a good dosage of ‘me’s’. With slight missing details of realty to add likeability to a conversation. Then with a satisfying amount of alcohol in our bloods we decided to move onto a more prestigious venue.
Obviously with the hyperactivity given by the energy and confidence rush of the alcohol, we drove with me sticking myself out of the sunroof of the beautiful Porsche Cayenne that my friend was driving. I screamed like I never screamed and felt lifted out of my body with the gust of air that was taking my breath away. I now know why Jack took Rose to the tip of the boat. At that moment I believed that nothing could stop me and nothing mattered as I was on a mission. A mission that I would have to devote a whole post too. Do I need to mention that I had lost my voice in the morning?
Anyway just before we arrived to this prestigious club called Ulus 29 in Ulus I was pulled in. May I also point out that I wasn’t alone when I was doing my screaming and the other people in the car were in actual fact egging me on. My abnormal behaviour was encouraged. Thus I was pulled in to the vehicle so we could at least appear a tad normal. On entrance we were greeted by the doormen who I don’t even remember the faces of, and we were taken to a nice little private corner table of this club that was unbelievably busy, or as the Turks would say ‘stuffed like a tin of sardines’.
Fruit, and champagne were served with many rounds of jagermeista shots and tequila to top it up. The fruit served is something I have never understood at a club. Is it to compensate the damage we do to our bodies and does the tucking in of fruit alongside alcohol make ok to drink? Anyway the high level of alcohol was taking me to high levels of devoutness that forget I can achieve when I am sober. I rejoice with my love and belief for god by praying a hundred times through the night, praying that I don’t embarrass myself. I also had like a million epiphanies. Ironically starting a blog was one epiphany from another night out.
So the fruit and drinks are on a constant top up, and I said cheers like a hundred times. During all of this my friend from many years ago introduced me to a women who my friend from many years ago argues is happily married. And of course if you are introduced to someone with the use such a bold statement the first question you ask is, how? So I asked her. She among all the noise and drink sharing and jokes told me it was all related to her previous bad experiences with men. Upon this statement my next two thoughts were then this; ‘I’m on the right track’ and ‘I will be happily married’. Now for someone who boasts about her independence I was amazed at how relieved I was at what she said.
So she summed up her perfect marriage in correlation to all the other men that she had been with, and here I am knowing maybe millions of different women that only believe a bad experience is just bound to bring on another.
Hence we come to the bit where I messaged the guy I eagerly, yes eagerly, wanted to sleep with. After thinking even believing I was on the right track to Mr Right I kicked off my shoes and jumped on the sofa. I danced swaying my hips from side, and hands in the air holding a glass because I was so happy to be on the right track! That’s when I fell, many people saw or should I say all the sardines in tin saw me fall. I was mortified but the polite bunch around me ignored the fact that I fell, gave me a private (??) moment to gather myself and stand. And once the moment lapsed I wanted more from the night. Whether it was to cover the mortifying drop or the inspirational words of a happily married individual or the alcohol. I was open to making mistakes. I messaged him. I wanted to walk the path of ‘wrong men’ to get closer to my Mr Right.
I don’t know what I messaged him. I didn’t want to know this morning either so when I woke up I hid myself under the covers as if he could see me and deleted our entire conversation in the history. I’m guessing the gist of it was something like ‘sleep with me’ as I was in point-blank mood last night with outbursts of random statements. Of course he didn’t reply and of course I didn’t get laid.
The rest of the night was the same as any other, I met random people, I spoke to a lot, I laughed at random comments, made some myself and as I stumbled out of the club with my newly made friends I decided I was not going to be able to go home on my own. So my friend from many years ago took me to hers.
This morning I opened my eyes only to wonder whose house I was in, whose PJ’s I was in and more importantly whose bed I was in. It took me a fearful 2 minutes to recognise my friend from many years ago and reconcile the events of last night.
My odd refreshed feeling this morning was the fusion of many other feelings all related to last night. I felt confused for most of the night as everyone and everything was new, but I liked it. I know the man I eagerly wanted to sleep with rejected me but I felt empowered because I was not bothered by the rejection nor am I bothered now about having to bump in to him again. I laughed at myself for having the urge to tell my 113 followers on Tweeter I was drunk, because quite frankly only someone as drunk as me would find it a worthwhile statement.
Most importantly though I embraced my embarrassing moment of falling hard on my butt because firstly it was a reason to give us a giggle over breakfast this morning and secondly to be honest it will stay with me for good few years because the next time I ‘fall to pieces’ I know I want to get up just as smoothly. I want to embrace whatever caused it and trade it for giggles once the pain of it has lapsed. Everything I came across last night only reinforced the fact that all my mistakes with men and in life will account for something good. I just have to hope that I lift myself up just as smoothly as I did last night.