Kanye West’s “Heartless” was booming throughout our four-bedroom house. It was her official, “I’m-angry-as-f***-and-heartbroken-at-the-same time” song. My roommate, let’s call her Mary-Kate, had been broken up with officially, for the second time. Her boyfriend of one year finally decided he just could not handle the long distance relationship anymore.
I was still going through my own “screw everything” phase, when she finally came out of her room that evening. I knew it was GAME-ON. Always quick to recover with an incredible ability to make the best of the worst situations, there was no way she was going to sit at home and wallow in her sadness. She knew of a party and was determined to go.
I didn’t even hesitate. She said she wanted to drink, and when your best friend is sad, you drink with her. I quickly put my “going out” clothes on and pulled out the shot glasses, while she got out the vodka. I poured shots for both of us and we toasted to “F*** GUYS.” First one down. I remember it slowly burning down my throat and I somehow had to run around in a circle and flap my arms (hopefully, you guys know what I mean) as if that made the shot any less painful. Let’s be honest, even with an orange juice chaser, shots of hard alcohol rarely feel good. Yes. We used to do shots of vodka. Don’t judge us, we were 21.
Also, you have to imagine playing in the background on the stereo is our standard happy, pop, girly playlist blaring. Face it, when you drink and start to dance to Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA” or Kesha’s “Tik Tok” you instantly feel 10 times better. Three more rounds of shots later and our other roommate, we will call her Ashley, wanted to go out too, but passed on the drinking. She graciously decided to be our designated driver, and elected to deal with our drunken asses that night.
We show up at the first party around 10pm. Mary Kate and I drink even more. There’s cheap crappy beer in red cups, beer pong, flip cup, and we basically did it all. This party dies down and Ashley says she knows of something else going on. So, she chauffeurs us to the next house party.
Ashley knows more of the people there than we do. We walk in and we clearly do not belong there. It was a highlighter party. You know, like where someone sets up a black light in the house and everyone has to wear white and draws on each other in highlighter, so everything shows up neon. This is actually pretty disgusting because you end up seeing other things you would ONLY see under a backlight. Gross. We did not realize we were going to a themed party and we stuck out like sore thumbs.
Well, now it’s about 11:30pm and we’re starving, except we’re too far away to get our required drunk Mexican food.
Ashley is socializing with the people she knows and I get the brilliant, yet awful idea to rummage through this house’s kitchen to look for anything to eat. Mind you, I have no idea whose house this is.
I went into survival mode and had to find a way to feed Mary-Kate and myself. I looked in their cupboard, then the fridge, but it was practically barren. Suddenly, I notice a big pot of something cooking on the stove. The flame is on, so I assume someone is around checking on it.
Completely inebriated, I peek under the pot lid and there is….STEW!! Quickly, Mary-Kate and I hunt through the kitchen for bowls and spoons. We pour ourselves some and eat a few delicious spoonfuls. Surprisingly, it was good drunk food. Then, some guy walks over to us, the guy that was probably making the stew. We were so embarrassed that we just invaded someone’s kitchen and stole their food that we ran out of there, grabbed Ashley, told her we needed to abort this mission, and got the hell out of Dodge. Halfway out the door we saw a platter of meat and cheese and grabbed some on the way out. Mary-Kate and I ran to Ashley’s car, meats in hand, hysterically laughing.
At this point we realized how incredibly horrible we were, except I start to have a drunk conversation with myself and answer my own questions. “Yeah, we just went to a party where we knew no one. SO? So what we stole their food. Do I care? NO. Do I care what any of those people think of me? NO. Am I vivacious? YES!”
I have no idea why I chose vivacious to describe myself. I have maybe said that word one other time in my life, but Mary-Kate, Ashley, and I could not stop giggling. We were having so much fun and it was such a relief to see my heart-broken bestie enjoying herself.
I don’t know about you, but when my best friends are sad, I feel even sadder. It’s not my responsibility, but I feel a duty to take their pain away. I could also just be an extremely emotional betch, but I’m okay with that. If making my bestie feel better meant getting liquored up and stealing food, then I am not apologizing for anything.
*Ok, but really, I am truly sorry to the people whose house that was and for being obnoxious, not respecting your party, and eating your stew (It was really amazing by the way). I also do not condone drinking as a way to self-medicate.
What do you do when your friends are upset/depressed? Let them handle it on their own? Force them to go out? Have a story of your own? I would love to hear it.
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