This will be a relatively short post, mostly because it happened around 12 years ago, so I can’t remember the finer details and I’ve also repressed a lot of the memories around this story.
For those of you that don’t know, I went to an all girls school. No, it wasn’t all lesbianism and PMS (sorry to disappoint you) but it did mean that I never really had any experience with guys until I was 16/17.
I first met Nathan at a mutual friends birthday party. He was confident and funny and I was excited by meeting a real live boy! We chatted over food and then exchanged numbers. We texted for a while and hung out regularly as we had a lot of the same friends. He was such a great guy! Over time we grew closer, and I started to really fancy him, but nothing really happened. Nathan was the ideal man. He had a car, he liked football and he made me laugh (my standards were pretty low back in the day)
My friends at the time had convinced me that he liked me too so I started to come round to the idea that I actually had a chance.
At the time, it was cool to have house parties. I used to be the person that had parties all the time – the house would get completely trashed and my parents were the only ones that seemed to be relaxed about it because it was ‘better than going out and drinking on a street corner’. One such house party, half a bottle of vodka later and a pep talk from my best friend, I decided that the time was right to profess my undying love.
I dragged Nathan outside into the garden (romantic right), round the back of my parents garage. We sat down and talked for a little while about the party and A-Levels. Then I took the plunge. I told Nathan that I really liked him in fact I believe I said something along the lines of “so…I like, really like you, like, more than a friend, because like, you’re so great”. There was an awkward silence. This wasn’t going well. I just started talking to fill the silence. Babbling like a total idiot. It was clear he didn’t feel the same way and I’d committed a massive social faux-pas. Then it happened. A whirl of drunkenness surrounded me, the ground was spinning, my head was spinning, the next thing I knew I was lying across Nathan’s lap…vomiting. I was vomiting in front of the love of my life. I’m also like, 80% certain I drunk-cried…
At this point, I’d lost all dignity, there was no coming back from it. Nathan, ever the gentleman, helped me to my bed and got me a glass of water. I had been put to bed, at my own house-party, at 10pm. The party continued without me, in case you were wondering.
After a couple of hours, I re-surfaced and we all just pretended nothing had happened. That continues to this day. Just ignoring the fact that I told a boy I loved him. We see each other occasionally when I venture home for Christmas, and there’s no feelings of embarrassment, mostly because we’re proper grown ups now and the fact that Nathan is very polite and would never be like “oh, remember that time you told me you loved me then spewed everywhere?” so…that’s always nice!
Ever since then I’ve always been cautious about revealing my true feelings when I’ve had a drink…surprisingly it brings back horrific memories and I start to feel nauseated…can’t imagine why!