Flight attendants. We like to drink. I’m talking 10 am to 10 pm. Drink. Drinkkkkk. Let me start by saying Dublin, Ireland is cool. When you’ve been to Dublin 6 or more times, it becomes very small. You walk to the local market and buy your salami and cheese and then you start drinking. And when I say start, I really mean you have already started after your flight lands at 10 a.m. Because Dublin is so special, the hotel hosts a happy hour. Since the competing airline left, if one flight crew goes downstairs at 530 p.m. then you can average about 1.5 bottles of wine per person. Let’s pretend I had a 1.5 liter bottle of sangria starting at 10 a.m. Then let’s pretend I get lost trying to actually sight see (because I’m hammered) and I decide to go to the local pub. The famous “Temple Bar”. I go to the pub and I have two double vodkas with my roomie. Because my bottle of Sangria needs a friend in my belly. Oh shit girl it’s happy hour at the hotel! Free Wine! So off we go. We get there in time. Five of us discover we are in charge of 9 bottles of wine. Plus the 2 extra that we already had. 11 bottles of wine. 3 men go down. 3 still remain. Why not! We have a late check in and it doesn’t bother the 8 hour rule (we have to not drink for a full 8 hours before we fly, and I always honor this rule).
FUCK it I am one. You know those times when you wish you had a future you that could backhand the shit out of the past you? I needed future me this night. I needed my future self to knock the fuck out of my past self.
Somehow between watching the World cup and passing out, some serious shit went down. Life altering shit. 3.5 bottles of wine and 1 liter of sangria and the multiple double vodkas don’t have any filter and/or emotional control. When I say I destroyed a friend, had phone sex and resurrected a ghost in two hours, I did some serious work. I remember nothing but I saw the text messages and the aftermath when I woke up the next morning. My pajamas were on backwards and all of the contents of my suitcase were strewn about the floor. I woke up thinking, “oh shit. I’ve done something bad.”
I’m obviously an angry fucking bitch. I burned a bridge like Sodom and Gomorrah honey. Can’t even turn back to look at it. Turn into a pillar of salt because salty bitch here decided to unleash three years of swallowed fury. I apparently let loose on my ex (who incidentally still has my stuff and I need for dog care) about all the wrongs he’s done over the last 6 years. Not only that, but I talked about his unhealthy relationship with his mother, I brought up the fact that everyone thinks he has a homosexual relationship with his best friend and called him a plethora of bad names. I couldn’t even look at it. I have an Iphone so I see the point where he actually blocked my number. I see it go from blue to green. My heart sinks. Fuck. So much for staying friends and ensuring my dogs have someone to care for them.
Then I look at my outgoing calls. FML. I had a stud back home that I have been flirting with. Little blips of the night before are coming back. I had dirty, hot phone sex with my Italian Stallion. This one I can applaud myself on a little. The man is fine and it has been a long time coming… but still I would like to remember it. I don’t remember very much of it, and that makes me sad.
I also resurrected Michael from the dead via WhatsApp…then I appear to have immediately killed it again only 30 minutes later. I pat myself on the back for the resurrection, my words were true and amazing. Then I quickly disintegrated it back into dust. I don’t blame him on that one. I ended up sounding sad and desperate. Knowing me, I know what I meant was heartfelt and not sad and desperate, but it most certainly did not read that way.
Mostly this day was a giant belly flop into the pool of life. I had an amazing time, but I need to have my phone taken away from me if I ever decide to black out. Fuck me.
#dublinisfun #drunkmesucks #datingonline #datingat40 #someonetakemyphone #tinder #ghosting #swipingleft #swipingright
Swiping left... Almost always 