You know how there are many different categories of drunks? There are the belligerent drunks, the drowsy drunks, the blackout drunks, the Asian glow drunks, the horny drunks, the ED drunks, the weepy drunks, the holy-shit-get-out-of-bed-folks-your-building-is-on-fire-no-wait-i’m-just-kidding-i-just-wanted-to-party drunks… Me, I’m a kleptomaniac drunk. In other words, I steal stuff.
This snatch-happy side of my personality has reared its head every so often during my nights out. Usually, I amuse myself by seductively loosening guys’ ties from around their necks then throwing it around my head, running off to dance to the club music. I’ve also stolen bigger loot like Voss water (sorry, Signature Room), costumewear from a pharmaceutical conference party, and a classmate’s ID. Once I stole a candy bar from a convenience store in Korea. Curiosity, really.
But my douchiest moment by far was probably that time two months ago when I went to Fat Buddha, where I decided to entertain myself by responding to the come-hither looks of a boy across the bar. I was bored anyway, so I sauntered over.
Feel free to judge me starting… now. I walked over and noticed immediately that: He was shorter than me.
He was also a boring conversationalist.
Take back one strike when he magnanimously offered, unprompted, to buy me a drink at the bar. Courteous, I’d give him that. He was also from Chicago. That was a half-point, just for coolness.
But not ten minutes into our acquaintance, I forgot about keeping score on Rick because soon his much taller, much more interesting friend came over. I cut Rick off mid-sentence as he was answering my question about his current occupation and pounced on David. I turned my body to face David and engaged him in conversation even as Rick attempted multiple times to include himself, a fruitless attempt for him even despite his friend’s loyal attempts to excuse himself.
But I saved both boys from their plight when a second, much more attractive friend of Rick’s walked past. I quickly ditched both and went and chased down Brad instead…
The next morning, I woke up to a pounding headache and extreme queasiness. I made myself a quick omelette with the hopes that I could calm the pyrotechnics of my stomach and doubly distracted myself from hangover central by checking the contents of my wallet to make sure I hadn’t lost or misplaced anything during my drunkenness. That’s when I discovered an Illinois driver’s license adorned with a familiar face.
“Ah shit,” I muttered.
I racked my brain to try and remember whether Rick had mentioned he lived in NY. How had I even get my hands on his DL? As I summed up the events of the previous night, confusion was very soon replaced by an acute sense of guilt.
Not only had I accepted a free drink from a boy I had led to believe he had a shot with me in flirtation, I had also overlooked him for his two best friends. Then, as if that weren’t bad enough, stolen his ID.
Oh. I am so very classy.