When this state of inebriation creeps up on you, the only thing in your hand more dangerous than car keys is a cell phone. Let’s stumble through the five steps of the drunk text to an ex and decide whether we should leave that piece of technology at home next time we go to the bar.
The initial consumption of alcohol, especially in a social setting, often brings with it a pleasant, good-natured sense in many of us. We’re more open with our friends, the bartender seems more deserving of a tip, that girl who was ugly when you walked in is suddenly seems to have grown a prettier face in seconds, whatever. As such, some of us get the itch to call up some folks we haven’t from in a while. Sometimes, those folks are our exes.
Yeah, it starts out innocent enough, just a friendly “Hey, what’s new?” You’ll let her know you’re at the bar, maybe mention what you’ve been up to in life. No harm done.
Have you ever been on the other end of this? Ever received a surprise drunk text from an ex you haven’t felt the need to speak to in months? Was your response anything other than “Ah, shit, here we go…?” Of course not. No one stops by a drug dealer to ask for directions. They stop by a drug dealer because life seems like a bleak and hopeless nightmare and the only reprieve is a few moments worth of cocaine-fueled mania.
Similarly, no one ever drunk texts an ex because they want to chat. They drunk text an ex because they want to have sex. Your ex knows this, and upon realizing that you are intoxicated, she will try to end the conversation.
You, on the other hand, will try to keep it going, usually by asking the same question you asked in the first place, only phrased slightly differently (i.e. “So, how’ve you been?”).
Alcohol tends to give people a lose tongue. If police were allowed to load up a suspected murderer with tequila, every case ever would be open and shut, because the drunken suspect would gladly tell them about who he killed and where he hid the bodies. With alcohol in his system, he’ll proceed to tell the cops that they are really pretty, that they are good friends for taking care of him, that he needs to piss like a racehorse, etc.
You are probably no different. It’ll start with little revelations (“You’re probably the most skilled lover I ever had”) and escalate quickly to massive, Lost worthy revelations (“When I’m horny on the internet I always masturbate to your Facebook pictures”).
It’s only gonna get worse.
By this point in the night, you’ve gone from “pleasantly buzzed” to “Mel Gibson.” You’ve asked that once-was-ugly-but-now-looks-like-Jessica-Simpson girl for her number five times and should be worried about her calling the cops on you. Instead of giving the hot waitress a tip, you gave her a note saying “When you get off, let’s meet behind the bar and screw in the bushes. I promise you that you will enjoy it, please do this for me. I’m bringing sexy back.” You have stared at a much larger man’s girlfriend for an entire hour.
Prospects are dwindling, friend.
But, you’ve always got that text conversation that’s going on, right? At this point, you have enough liquid courage to send this message: “Srsly les jus fukkk like nowwww. Haha jk but no srsly les do it.”
Hey, if she even responds after that, maybe you’ve got a chance.
You’ll wake the next morning smelling of vomit and shame (shame smells like a Burger King bag, in case you were wondering). You’ll try to piece together the events of the evening, and, unable to do so, will simply pick yourself up and head to your car, once you can find it. Later on in the day you’ll open up your phone and see that you sent some texts last night…
Have fun spending the next few weeks of your life apologizing profusely. You’ll go to lengths you never would have otherwise, like attending AA meetings, looking into rehab options, making sure you have liquor before beer (“you’re in the clear”)…hey, baby steps.
All because you had your damn phone on. Clearly, the solution to this problem is to get so damn trashed next time that you can’t operate it. Problem solved.