Hangovers Have Started to Dictate My Weekends and It Is a Damn Shame

hangovers weekend

I can honestly say, I never thought it would come to this. Call it young ignorance or whatever overused expression you prefer for the invincibility feeling we all have throughout high school and college but I truly never thought there would be a time where the threat of being hungover would start calling the shots. In the last month or so, for the first time in my young life, I've started to weigh more than "what bar are we going to" or "any girls going" in my decision on spending a night on the town. Seemingly out of the clouds those questions have taken a backseat to a more intimate, internal dialogue. That dialogue consisting of one question that I am always reluctant to answer, "Is it worth being hungover tomorrow?" And for every day that goes by, the odds of that answer being no rise in a fashion only paralleled the tides of Lake Michigan. No clue if that comparison made sense, I was gonna make a boner joke but the odds of the answer being no aren't rising that fast and I refuse to lie, I may be a lot of things, but I am not a liar. It really is fucked up that hangovers are starting to call the shots on my social life. 

If you're like me, hangovers have evolved from an urban legend, into a slight nuisance, and in it's (hopefully) final form; a day ruiner. Not only am I degraded into a useless bag of milk when I'm hungover, but I actually have the thought that maybe it would just be easier to die. We are getting to that point in the hangover, not to mention that it has started to compromise a second day, which I'm learning very quickly is unacceptable. Problem is, I really do enjoy drinking. It's a fun time everyone getting together, bit of a smorgasbord of varying beers, seltzers, and liquors, the vibes are high, people wanna socialize maybe lose a piece of clothing or two, get a little wild. It's a fun time. But my god hangovers are not. I still remember the days when the famed "2 day hangover" was nothing more than a myth recycled by the generations before us. All of a sudden, here I am, Monday after Monday replaying those same conversations in my head wondering how we let it get to this point. It's fucked up. 

I've never even considered hangovers up until the last month. Yea they happen, yea they suck, but it was the cost of doing business. Now, they're like the boogeyman, I'd rather give away my first born than have to deal with one. Call me a pussy, call me a coward, fine... just call me honest. Hangovers fucking suck. 


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