Nothing that hasn’t been said before …. but here we go again!

Why do we tell ourselves when we’re going “out” for a drink, that all we intend to do is have just that one drink and then swiftly get ourselves off home? It’s clearly a lie, unless you’re going out for a drink with someone who you intentionally try to keep to a one drink minimum!

Sadly, twice this week, my perfectly good intentions to have just one post-work drink have been scuppered. Within just twenty minutes of being in the bar that I’d purchased my first drink in, drink number two was already in hand!

Unfortunately though it’s when you pick up drink number three, and contemplate buying shots, that you know disaster is about to strike. This is when you trade a glance with whoever you are out with, and declare the frightening line; “we’re out out.” (Although I find that this declaration has far more potency about it, when it’s being said with an Essex accent. Much like; “shut up!”)

Whilst the difference of being “out” and being “out out” shouldn’t seem that great, we all know that it is. The highs are; conversations with people you don’t know, making new friends – a perk for you but not always them (depending on their level of alcohol consumption compared to yours at the time), darting for the last train home – although only remembering that halfway through the following day, mum / dad style dancing, occasionally karaoke, and speaking progressively louder.

Yet we shouldn’t forget the lows; the bank balance taking a beating – along with the voice box, the kidney’s and liver also taking a nice hit, there’s the unavoidable hangover, the waves of shame that hit you as the memory returns – yes you really were dancing around your handbag and singing at the top of your lungs, and for the super competitive amongst us .… more shame!

The thing is, no lessons are ever learnt. After intending to meet a friend for just one drink on Wednesday, and then go home and get some work done, we ended up “out out”. Unsurprisingly, come Thursday morning, we then had to deal with the inevitable ramifications of our decision.

After struggling with my morning commute, and longing to die for most of Thursday, I swore off alcohol – well at least until July! However, I’m now writing this blog with a far worse hangover than the one I had on Thursday. So I wonder, am I glutton for punishment or just plain stupid?

I could argue both ways, but simply put; “I was out out!”