There is something amazing about the random instance of inebriation that stimulates a creative spurt that makes for a sometimes hilarious, usually rude awakening the next morning. Checking your history from the night before usually requires a few deep breaths.
Rewind to the night before. The moment you press send, you have done something irreversible: told a dark secret, ratted out a friend, admitted a deep burning truth, announced a sexual fantasy, led someone on, bitched someone out, cock teased a crush, delivered an undecipherable string of words (which is your best case scenario)—basically ruined your reputation in some blush-worthy way.
The good news is, most people are so used to receiving drunk texts that they don’t read too much into them. ..or that’s what we tell ourselves. It isn't true. We have all spent countless Saturday and Sunday mornings communally deciphering the meaning of texts sent by mangled slurring textjaculators (copyright VW) the night before. This usually makes me feel like I am right back in English class, looking for a deeper meaning, a hidden metaphor or example of imagery. There are usually lots. This is probably the most practical application of my English Degree. Thank you Queen’s. Too bad that when considering texts from the opposite sex, there generally isn't much to "get"--most late night texts are booty calls. Sorry to break your bub, but you don't contact the opposite sex at 3am to start a relationship.
As a respectable married woman who admittedly still lives my life in somewhat of an undergrad fashion (excessive drinking and partying), I have somehow trained my inebriated self to limit my drunk texts to proclamations of love for my girlfriends. Saturday night is a perfect example: I was sitting in a bar, enjoying the live band, when a familiar tune started playing. SANTERIA by SUBLIME. I reach for my phone, to text SWF, the very person I used to lip sync or more commonly scream along to this song with back in undergrad. BUZZZZZZZ. I couldn’t believe my cross eyes.
It was SWF, beating me to the punch. Sometimes, drunk texts appear to be little miracles. Coincidences are always more fun after a few dirty martinis.
The exchange went a little something like this:
SWF: “Love you like it’s going out of style. For real”.
MMA: “Hey SWF, you texted me as the band started playing Santeria. Love!’
SWF: “you are my fave”
MMA: “You are my love of life”
SWF: “you make my life a better one”
It then degenerated to some dirty and weird exchange that is not suitable for the average reader’s eyes, even those who are not faint of heart.But, because the site Texts from last night exists, I will share some gems I came across instead of tainting our reputation. Reading them makes me feel a lot better about myself.They help me confirm my own normalcy as I scoff hypocritically at these ‘drunken fools’. Here’s hoping my texts (or yours) will never compare to these:
(858): I drank 13 shots. Which is unlucky. Which is why i threw up.
-you threw up because you drank 13 SHOTS.
(330): Just ate cheeseit crumbs off the floor. i feel like Kirstie Alley.
(339): i don't remember it, but i know we had sex because my stuffed animals were facing the wall.
(317): she literally pooped in the closet. i sent the picture to everyone i know.
(720): I just found glitter on my vibrator... whatever we're doing has to stop.
(936): you went around the entire night in your french maid costume dusting off the "cob webs" on everyone's crotch saying "you havent gotten any action in a while"
-I was wondering why i got so many friend requests the next day...
Ok maybe that last one could have been me, but it wasn’t.
My French Maid costume is missing though…
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