Being single is fun.  At least i think its fun.  I’m aware that there are human females who would disagree with that but they must just not be as good at it. Having said that, I in no way believe my behavior this weekend was the best display of my single skills. But it was a fucking good time.

I should have known one like this was coming. Yea, i’ve been getting plastered three to five days a week, but not to a potentially embarrassing point (ok, there was that one blizzardy-literally blizzardy!- night).  But I can say it: I was shameful and borderline cringeworthy depending on you speak to, all three nights.

Friday started with an elegant work happy hour. Wait not elegant, nevermind. Beers and dark liquor with my equally shameful coworkers. Nothing out of the ordinary- just a regular 6pm bingefest.  Not knowing where the rest of my night would take me, I opened myself up to the idea of going to Brooklyn with a few of them to see a show and celebrate a birthday. Officially convinced I was when one of my co worker’s roommates showed up to attend.  I’ve had a mild crush on him going on two years now. It couldn’t have been set up for me any better by my wonderful colleagues, including actually leaving us behind to catch our own cab all the way to BK. Unfortunately, I was already 29 sheets to the wind, and blew it within the first three minutes.  Not one witty, intelligent, or flirty thing came out of my mouth. I don’t remember a word that was said, just the awkward unnecessary silence that played out for approximately 17 minutes.

It didn’t get any better after that.  I’m fairly certain that my eyes were closed most of the time we were in the venue and I’m still not sure if what we went to see was a DJ, techno artist, or folk band. My original intentions were to sleep in Brooklyn (roommate’s bed?), but I think that option was left in Manhattan a cab ride earlier.  I was convinced to take a shot of tequila, shook my booty a little off beat, and contemplated suicide before my dear, lovely coworker Marcus kindly led me from the scene, took me to get breakfast food, put me in the most desirable method of transportation and hit the trunk three times to signal I was ready for take-off.

A $30.50 cab ride up the entire east side later, I was being poked by my driver (nicely, I’ve definitely been poked hard by a cab driver) outside of my apartment.

That is all I remember…

The next morning, I had yolk on my coat, a voicemail from my mom, was missing my chapstick, and I felt an apology text was in order. “Marcus, im sorry im such a mess”. That should do, right?

My next human communication was stalking Emily in the form of multiple phone calls before the PM hit.  We had drinking plans ok.  Upon finally reaching her, I had the standard long conversation and decision process that Emily is always willing to have and is in sooth pretty much demanding of. We decided on the Sunburnt Cow, a popular brunch ground with $18 entrée and all you can drink. Faulty advertising because at 7:30pm the bartender insisted I start paying for drinks again. We headed to the Crocodile Lounge shortly after with my new friend Nicholas, to meet up with a few other gents we picked up in our 6-hour bender at the Cow.  That bender also included 4 company changes (just Emily- Emily and Kelsey- just Kelsey- Marlena and Kelsey- just Kelsey again). Before Emily departed she stayed for an extra 2 hours which led to her passing out and missing her babysitting gig that night. Before Marlena departed she scribbled my number on a piece of paper and gave it to the aforementioned emo bartender.  Hearts and smiley faces certainly included. Thanks for potentially ruining my new brunch spot Marlena! And thank you Kelsey for staying with me.

Overall I give the Sunburnt Cow a sexy pinch in the ass. Great staff, prices, and clientele, but it was goddamn time to move on. The CL was a good idea for about the first 2 beers.  Then came closed-eyed blackout Heather who apparently can pull off not closed-eyed blackout Heather for quite a period of time, as I managed to take Kelsey back to her apartment (Nicholas in tow) and get myself invited to a nice restaurant where I distinctly remember eating artichokes and sipping wine.  Totally normal and necessary.

That’s all I remember…

I woke up this next morning with a photobooth strip in my bag incorporating myself, Kelsey and the complete menagerie of men we collected through the evening. What I also found in my bag was my cell phone (thank god) with a special text message reading “Had a good night. Get home safe. Be careful you are wasted”. Nicholas!

I also thought I lost my beanie that I wore all day Saturday mostly because I hadn’t showered and didn’t plan to.  I would later find that on the pillow of my male roommate’s bed before remembering that was in fact where I originally woke up. Time: 6:12am?

Easily convinced by Marlena, I responded to old St. Nick with an unintelligent (but funny) counter-fact going something like: “No sir. You were wasted”. Time: 1:25pm.

His mind-blowing response that took my already fucked up weekend to a whole new level? “I probably was, but you fell asleep a couple of times at the Gramercy Hotel. Glad to see you made it home”

Let’s dissect…

Last time I checked “a couple” meant more than one. And last time I checked the Gramercy Hotel was a pantsy scene for the likes of Richard Gere and Posh Spice- a pantsy scene to which I had never explored. I then asked Nicholas the only logical thing I could think of: “Did you think it was a good idea to take me to the Gramercy hotel?” it took him an hour after that to come up with “I don’t know”.  He should be embarrassed, not me.

Several hours and a $40 Big Daddy’s order later, it was dark outside again so Marlena and I did the only normal thing for two single New Yorkers to do on a Sunday evening such as this and went to Brother Jimmy’s to catch the end of the Terps game.  She REALLY wanted to watch that game, so sue me.  What we actually ended up catching was the unexpected attention of 5 male models. At Brother Jimmy’s on the UES? Magic.

Confusing entertainment became the theme of the night. We were hard pressed to get wit or intelligence out of them, but they were raucous and smoked cigarettes which just happened to be the theme of my weekend.  A little before midnight and several uncalled for rounds of alcohol later (shut up it’s still Sunday) we decided a doobie and some tunes were in order and headed to one of their apartments around the corner.  I had been flirting with the only non-model most of the night, and may have shared a classy kiss or two at the bar.  He was actually smart, with an awesome job with Sunday Night Football.  Plus smoking hot. This may not stick out as an obvious fact given my actions so far, but this dude was my only actual kiss of the whole weekend. I couldn’t possibly bring myself to make this public if it had been more than that…

So, we’re high. Hanging out with attractive dudes. Watching Happy Gilmore.  Marlena is literally rapping the plot of the movie while the guys translated her rhymes into a Chinese-Russian combo language. Pictures were snapped and Budweiser tallboys were consumed. After things settled down, Marlena began to doze off and I decided 3am was the perfect time to go home, so we headed out.  NFL boy was also going home and walked out with us. The door to his apartment shut behind us at about the same time the door to Marlena’s dignity did. A bit dazed and drunk, she began to gag and spew her Jack Daniel’s onto the floor of this photogenic male’s hallway. As she was blocking the stairs, all non-model and I could do was stand there, somewhat support her behavior, and wait for her ability to stand up straight to kick back in. I can’t make this shit up.

*Editor’s Note: I allowed Marlena to preview this before posting, and she’d like me to clear up that she wasn’t dozing off, she was holding in vomit. I assured her the former was less embarrassing, but she has insisted. “Don’t make me look like a loser. Cuz I ain’t.”

When we finally made it out, Mars got in a cab that began to honk impatiently as I was exchanging phone numbers (and kissing?) boy. If only it weren’t a Sunday…

That’s all I remember…

Monday I went to work. On time. Swollen eyes and in a slight giggle fit that would throughout the day and unexpectedly become sheer rage. I also found out from the lovely Marcus that I fell asleep at the diner on Friday night as well…”a couple if times”.

That’s all I remember…

In the sad reality that is my life, I actually spent my weekend being a bad mom to my dog, body and bank account. Worth it?  Blakely and my parents would probably say no, but hey, shit happens when you party naked.