Et tu, Cabernet*

 

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Me and wine, back in the good times.

I have to give up drinking.

EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER SEEN ME DRUNK: Yeah, we know!

NOT FOR THAT REASON.

E.W.H.E.S.M.D.: So, not because Drunk You will casually spend 20 quid on a full meal and then eat it from a plastic bag on the dance floor?

NO.

E.W.H.E.S.M.D.: And not because Drunk You is a terrible flirt, as in, all you do is either lurk around the poor bloke or LITERALLY SAY THE WORDS “oh my god I actually got lost in your eyes!”

Mmm. Well, not not that.

E.W.H.E.S.M.D.: Because you realised that you were using alcohol as a social prop that really, as a generally self-confident adult woman, you really shouldn’t need?

Of course not!

No, my brain does this thing every so often where if I have too much to drink, either a) I wake up with a hangover and eat a lot of breakfast and think about the terrible decisions I made, or b) I wake up with a hangover and then have an epileptic seizure and black out and come to with a room full of hunky paramedics and all my loved ones standing around me looking very, very upset.

Option b) is pretty rare but having happened roughly three times in three years, I think enough might be enough.

It’s tricky though, because I have zero memory of any of the seizures, just their aftermath, and what anyone nearby at the time has said, so the idea of changing my behaviour because of something I can’t at all remember, and which forms no part of my experience, is like if your friends said “hi, we just watched Psycho and we’d rather you never took showers again, please, we’re very frightened.”

Okay maybe it’s not quite like that, at all. But it’s still a hard habit to kick when all that you really remember is a mad and dreamlike day; the last one was here in Berlin, at my still very new boyfriend’s place, and most of the day I was just left on a trolley in a hospital in Neukolln with my boyfriend not allowed to come in with me, and I had to explain everything in German even though my head was really foggy and no one had even the slightest sense of humour, even though the seizure happened while we were having sex so at first BF thought that he was just crushin’ it before realising something terrible was going on, which is objectively hilarious. You know what, it was actually a rubbish day, seizures aren’t at all up to the hype and aren’t worth the visit really.

Anyway, it means I have to give up drinking, pretty much forever, unless I find myself jonesing for a seizure for some reason. So I’m searching for a brand new vice, everyone! Please suggest a new guilty pleasure in the comments below, ideally, lo-to-no cost and legal. I need to stay fun somehow.

 

*okay so I captioned this one Et tu cabernet like et tu brute because the first time I went in to hospital after having had a fit my brother was like “maybe you should eat something light, like a Seizure Salad” and I thought it was hilarious and so was going to name it something similar but then went for a Caesar reference even though on a second look that makes zero sense unless you are me. GOOD

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