Tequila Mocking Bird

As the week has worn on, a series of bruises have developed on my body that serve as a rather embarrassing reminder of Monday night... Or, as I will from now on refer to it: The Night I Had Sex Much Too Drunk.

Far be it from the truth to suggest that I have never had drunken sex before (Hello, University... *cough* and beyond... *cough*), this little episode was spectacular for several reasons. 1) Not only had I had a lot of wine, followed by a lot of tequila, followed by a lot of spiced rum, I had also had next to no sleep for nearly 5 days. 2) In a wholly unwise move, a group of us had just been to see a late-night showing of a film in 3D, which had done nothing to aid my sense of sobriety. 3) The guy in question, Henry (more on him later), was as drunk as I was, meaning the entire event closely resembled two people playing Twister in a tumble dryer.

This is presumably why at some point that night I emerged from a tequila haze to find I had fallen naked off the edge of my friends’ spare bed and under a table, leaving an equally-naked Henry swaying uncertainly on the duvet precipice and asking in a stage whisper if I was alright. This is one of a very select number of snapshot images I have from the evening.

In settling myself down to document this sorry tale, I realised I couldn’t remember getting back to my friend’s flat... I’m fairly sure that Henry and I were informed that we had to share a room quite early on in the evening and we both drank heavily from that point onwards. I’ve had sex with Henry before and so I suppose the whole thing had a certain inevitability about it; it’s just we just decided to cement that inevitability by adding extra alcohol.

So. We started with dinner and wine before moving on to a few bars. It was in the first bar where Henry the booze hound insisted we drink a tequila with every round that night. We had eaten dinner reasonably early and ended up beginning our mini bar crawl at about 8 o’clock. I usually only drink tequila after about 2am, but despite that (and the fact no-one else was up for it) I gamely took Henry on drink for drink. 2 hours later and I was beginning to feel a little hazy. It was suggested by some genius that the group go to the cinema... Hooray for cinema! Of course everyone loves the idea of late-night cinema! We were disproportionately thrilled at the idea of going to the cinema so very late – what a bunch of rebels we were. But wait! We became more rebellious still... How about sneaking a little wine into the film with us?! *snigger* We are, like, sooooo cool.

Only Henry the booze hound was not interested in wine. Ohnonono... Henry emerged triumphant from the supermarket brandishing spiced rum. He was pleased with himself. He had a hunter-gatherer air. I was waiting for the point at which he would begin beating his chest with his fists.

We smuggled the rum in to the screening and began dishing it out as inconspicuously as possible into a series of medium-sized cokes. I realise in retrospect that anyone with half a brain would have known instantly what we were doing. We must have looked tragic... Who do I think I am – a college freshman?! I certainly can’t have looked like one. The combination of unfocussed drunken eyes and the 3D glasses can only have made me look like someone wearing a joke shop disguise. Or possibly Jarvis Cocker on smack.

I didn’t follow the film very well... The 3D specs spent a lot of time travelling down my nose towards the floor, and the (I imagine) stunning visual effects were somewhat marred by my already-double vision. Henry was sitting next to me with his hand between my legs... He was fast asleep.

Somehow the film ended – I think happily. Somehow we returned to my friends’ flat. Somehow I brushed my teeth and put on something to sleep in. Somehow I ended up having sex with Henry.

I am genuinely unsure as to how it happened. Henry has an unbelievably loud voice, and an absolute inability to whisper. I remember repeatedly telling him to be quiet for fear that we would wake up everyone else in the flat. However, apart from my role as the sex librarian (“Shhhhhhhhh Henry! Will you be. Quiet!”), I don’t actually remember much about the sex itself.

I realise for a blog about sex, that doesn’t really cut the mustard. I am annoyed with myself. AND – as if this wasn’t irritating enough – Tuesday night ended with us both getting so drunk again that despite sharing the same spare bed for the second night running, we both actually passed out before we could even begin taking each other’s clothes off... The most frustrating thing about the whole tragic episode is that it feels like such a waste of good sex.

I let the drink get in the way of the fun! We had tequila on Tuesday night as well, this time in an actual tequila bar. I suspect that there is a lesson in all of this... Perhaps tequila is my sexual kryptonite? It certainly made a mockery of two potentially excellent nights of sex. How do Mexicans do it?!

I think from now on I will give it up entirely. The tequila I mean, not the sex. Obviously. Maybe in a new era of zero tequila I can ensure a thoroughly satisfying and easily-documentable sex life. I’ll keep you posted.

BeDJ