Ugh

I am old.  Old in the way that "hangover" takes a new meaning.  Meaning if I get shitfaced on a Friday, I won't feel better until a Monday.  Maybe not even this Monday.  Maybe next.  

Last night we started at the Boat Basin.  Which I assumed would be a low key night for me since everyone was ordering pitchers of beer and I don't really love beer.  I thought this will be a sober night.  Ha.

We wound up at Niagara down on the Lower East Side. I used to go there all the time in the days of yore.  I felt cool because the bar wasn't yet discovered by the trendy 22 year olds the city has come to be inhabited by.

There was lots of dancing.  Lots of drinking and I had fun.  The kind of fun where you know it's probably going to hurt tomorrow.  

Oh and did I mention The Boy came in to surprise me?  He told me he had to work but showed up anyway.  I was kind of expecting him to surprise me because that's his favorite thing to do to people.  But it was still nice to know that I wasn't just imagining an ideal situation in my head.  

Then we fought.  We don't usually fight when we drink.  I hate it especially when we've had a wonderful time and then we fight.  And sometimes I cry.  I hate to be such a stupid girl.  

When I was a little munchkin, I was somewhat rambunctious.  (Wow - I cannot believe I spelled that word right).  I sometimes pushed buttons and my parents would yell at me and I would feel so sad.  Not because I was getting in trouble (I was used to being punished) but because I took a fun, happy moment and turned it into an angry one.  I hated most that I disappointed my mom and dad because I knew how much they loved me.  I didn't want to ruin their time and I didn't want the loving attention to stop.

I still carry that feeling after a fight with people I care about to this day.  Last night was filled with lots of I love yous and you're my favorites and I hated that we had to top it off with a stupid drunk fight.  

He had to leave early this morning, but he still made sure I had water and Motrin because I wanted the room to stop spinning.  He takes care of me no matter how angry he gets.  That's one of his best qualities.  He doesn't stop the loving attention.  Which made me feel more guilty, but I could barely lift my head to say sorry.  I couldn't even take the sleep mask off my face because the sun was making it a mission to burn my hungover eyes out of their sockets.

I know we've made up a dozen times in our sleep already.  But I just hate the stupid fights.