The actual booze-up only lasted a few hours but recovery remains ongoing.
It was Jade and Dan’s wedding, and considering they’d made the effort to come over from Australia, I could walk the 100-or-so-yards from my home and get pissed.
I don’t remember much of the night.
I remember meeting up with Shaun, doing a mini-Palmerston pub crawl, and arriving about a sheet to the wind. I have flashbacks of a rather horrid shot and going up to Dan to tell him he’s broken my heart. He was meant to be mine. I found a nice Australian man to heal me, but he was attached to a much nicer Australian woman. I also found another lady in blue who was very nice. I don’t remember much more than that
I did hopefully end a 5-year disagreement that’s taught me about saying ‘yes’ to a date, you say ‘no’. You go ‘no’ and run. I am, by their account, a prick-tease, arsehole, tosser, twat, c**t, and this was meant to be a surprise to me. They aren’t. I own a mirror. I was apparently leading him on — I’d only said ‘hi’ — when he didn’t want anything, nothing at all, except to rehash the same conversation over and over again. It got to the stage that I couldn’t throw-up behind a lamppost without him calling and leaving voicemail, so I had to be mean. I don’t really remember the details, I just remember not walking away. I said my bit and strut, strut, strut and then sashay’d.