What a difference a day [spent getting over a hangover] makes.

Okay, maybe not a hangover because in truth, I’m pretty sure when I woke up I was still drunk. And OMG, Internet, did I miss that feeling! Seriously. I woke up after four hours of sleep and I was still buzzed and the room was doing that weird swaying thing where you could swear you’re on a tilt-a-whirl, only you’re not – you’re in your bed, which is covered in nursing text books because you’re too exhausted to clear it before you drunkenly stumbled in.

Last night was the first time in almost two years that I got ridiculously drunk – 4 pints of beer and a tall bottle and a half of Tanqueray for yours truly – and it was the best time I’ve had in a while. Rob and I had been complaining to each other that we never party anymore, so when some classmates invited us to hang out, we jumped on it. Never mind that one of those classmates is an attractive kid that swore he’d ask me out if he was only ten years older. Never mind that said attractive kid – let’s call him Romeo – was making eyes at me without meaning to, and that Rob noticed and got really angry and couldn’t hold in his anger and ended up saying really loud and rude things about my classmates. Never mind that Rob drank about as much as I did, and became really hostile and angry and spent the last 45 minutes of our stay at the bar with his head against the edge of the table as he upchucked clear liquid all over the floor.

Or, ya know what? Let’s not never mind. Because holy hell, if I had known he’d go all jealous boyfriend on me (which he’s never done before), then his ass would’ve been left at home.

Quick rundown, since WordPress wanted to be an asshole and stuff isn’t as fresh in my mind as when I’d sat down to write this post 24 hours ago: My classmates didn’t hear Rob’s really obnoxious comments; my brother (who has never had much of a social life) enjoyed the hell out of the night*; I got to sing my little heart out and drink a lot and dance a little and hang out with some cool people (who are in their 20s!!!) ; and for the first time in my eight months in the Philippines, I felt like I was home. Not home like a place, but home like my own skin.

What does it say about me that it took inebriation to make me feel like myself? If I had to guess, I’d say it has something to do with getting rid of inhibitions and feeling sexy in my tight halter top and eye makeup, and being confident in the rush of being out at night with music thumping and lights moving and young people looking for fun and danger and sex. I felt like a native of that particular place and time, like I was one of those young people whose responsibilities don’t necessitate waking up the next morning. But of course, it does matter that I wake up the next morning – and at 6 a.m., no less, to take care of the little one.

Last night felt like a confirmation of my belief that it’s possible to be a hard-working, responsible, and caring mom and still go out and have a good time. I’m not going to be doing this every weekend, and getting drunk off my ass isn’t my only idea of a good time, but I acknowledge that it’s something that I like to do and that if it’s possible to do it within the parameters of safety that I’ve set, then I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna let my hair down dance my ass off and party it up because that’s what I wanna do. That’s right, mofo, it’s my party and I’ll drink three times the legal limit if I wanna – and no, I will not apologize or make excuses for my actions. This is who I am and fuck you if you don’t like it.

I’ve been so busy pushing the limits of my domestic/maternal side that I forgot how to coax my wild/party side out to play. Maybe that has something to do with my being out of practice. (Two years is a hell of a long time!) All I know is, all day today I’ve been radiating confidence, brilliance, and vivaciousness like the awesome supernova that I had forgotten I am. And my responsibilities to Riley, Rob, school, work, writing, friends, family and the household? They’re A-okay and in tip-top shape, thankyouverymuch.

Life is super good. And bonus: I’ve found my clique!

* Well, ya know, aside from Rob vomiting up his insides.

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