Allow myself to introduce…myself
The other night I had one too many.
I’m not telling you this because I’m proud of it (dude I was totttttallly wasted the other night…how freshman year would that be?) But as someone who does not normally drink in excess, I sometimes just have to sit back and laugh as my friends so generously remind me of all the unseemly things I did the night before.
If you’re expecting a story about me dancing on the bar in my underwear, you might as well just stop reading because that’s not where this is going. My favorite part about hearing accounts of my misadventures is how funny I find them. Not funny “ha-ha” but more like “this story is hilarious because it doesn’t sound at all like me.”
For example, as I struggled to rejoin the human race on Saturday afternoon, one amiga told me that every time she turned around I was talking to someone new. “I would come over and say, “Marisa, who’s your new friend?” and you’d tell me their name while simultaneously making air quotes,” she told me with a smirk. Apparently this happened multiple times throughout the hazy evening.
And as I came to, a muddled memory fluttered back into my consciousness. In my state I was feeling friendly, and must’ve been scanning the room for new friends. Well, a young gentleman I looked at made his way through the crowd and said the following: “We made eye contact and I just felt like we had a moment and I had to come over and say hello.” Sober Marisa would have found this cute, albeit cheesy, and entertained a chat. But the other me found this line painfully tacky, and split to pursue other social enterprises.
As much as I might cringe from the silly stories that spill forth in the aftermath of a fun night out, sometimes I wonder if regular me could learn a thing or two from slightly impaired me. This girl sounds like a hoot: she’s friendly, chatty, working the room, and putting the things that are pissing her off on the back-burner.
And even though the night ended with hyper-emotional me making an ever-so-graceful appearance, for those few hours I was able to let it all go. I would really love to incorporate some of these traits (mainly being a little more carefree) into my everyday existence.
At 23-years-old there’s no time like the present to start being the very best version of myself.