I'm here today to share a very important public service announcement with you all:
Alcohol is bad, mmmkayy...
It's not bad for you, when taken in moderation. It can be a fun group activity. But when alcohol is consumed in the wrong state of mind, things can go very wrong.
Unfortunately, it seems that the very situations in which one wants to consume alcohol are the best times to avoid it. For example, when one gets mad, they may feel like they should drink to help them feel better. But alcohol is never a solution to your problems, and in fact it can escalate them.
So why he let me drink knowing I was already mad at him, I don't know. But he did. And boy, was that a mistake.
See, I'm a competitively jealous girl, meaning that if I get jealous about something it's only because I feel in competition with it. And I constantly feel like I'm competing with the other girls of the world for my boyfriend. I don't know why, but I do. And so when something (or some other girl) comes up, my aggression flares and I get super competitive, and thus super angry.
I won't go into the nitty gritty of what happened, but let's just say if it were reversed and he saw what I saw, we wouldn't be a couple right now.
Unfortunately, I had to let the anger stockpile inside because we were in mixed company and I didn't want to go all angry ghetto black girl on him in front of his boys. I'm too respectful for that. But I made sure he knew I was mad. I had crossed arms and I'm sure my face showed some anger. Big Bro knew I was mad, because he looked at me, looked at Amardo, then looked back at me with a look that I can barely even describe. It was like he knew Amardo was in ass whoopin territory and that I was only holding back because everyone was there.
To Amardo's credit, he knew I was mad too and so made every effort to make me happy last night. The sad thing is, all he knew to do to make me happy was to take me out and have fun (since I've been trying to go out), and to buy me a bottle so that I'd enjoy myself a little more.
Cue shot number 1.
Now, I had just eaten so this wasn't enough to get me crazy, but I felt just a little looser than I had previously and that's when we went out.
Cue mixed drinks 1, 2 and 3.
That's when problems arose. We were at the Ohdee house and there were a bunch of people there chilling and suddenly there was no one there. This was enough to make my influenced body want to go home. For the first time all night since the occurrence, me and my boyfriend were alone together. So, like any irrational human being would do (because I was pretty far under the influence at this point), I yelled at him for what he did. Then when he said he was going to go home, I yelled at him for trying to leave me when I was right. And I yelled at him for not understanding just how right I was in this argument. I tell you, when I bitch, I bitch hard.
Now cue the tears. At this point I wasn't even angry any more. As I tend to do, I started to take what happened personally as an attack to my character. Maybe I'm not the girlfriend I think I am, I thought as I ended up in his arms sobbing. I told him about how I feel like I'm always competing with someone.
We ended up going to a friends house a few doors down, and I had a good time until some other girl randomly grabbed his beard. If I had been anywhere near as influenced as I was earlier, I would have jumped off the bar stool and punched her in the face. Instead, he knew how mad I was (again, I didn't want to even look at him), so he told me we should go home. And we did.
I'd love to stay and chat a little longer, but I've gotta get dressed so I can be the supportive girlfriend. See? I'm not completely happy with him and I'm STILL out here looking out for him.