Apparently, every girl has an inner crazy. I never knew this. I always thought it was something you opted into. A box you ticked. Like religion, or politics, or sex on the first date. That was until Thursday. Until alcohol. Until tequila partnered with my phone and forgot to inform my reputation they were about to push it off a very steep cliff. Until 8 messages to a boy I don’t remember sending. Until here I am drowning in a sea of blue texts whilst I deep dive for my dignity. Until …. crazy.
Was it that bad? Let me entertain your inner crazy for a minnie. Just relax. Now have 3 bottles of wine and some espresso martinis at your fave bar. Request Alicia Keys’ ‘This Girl is on Fire’ to a guy that’s a part time DJ, part time accountant. Dance sort of sexily with your girlfriends like you don’t even care who’s watching because you are just sohhh fun. Make sure the guy you’re interested in is watching. Laugh a lot and loudly with your friends because… carefree and cocktails. Maybe talk to the bartender like you’re interested. You’re not. Follow it up with No Scrubs by TLC and some more tequila because ‘you don’t want no scrubs’ and definitely have R.E.S.P.E.C.T for yourself.
Nek morning. A parade of text messages. Lots of sick feelings. Your self esteem break dance battled it’s way into a whole new iMessage realm…. solo. Text. Where did you go. Text. You need to grow up. Text. I didn’t really mean that. Text. Spelling mistake spelling mistake. Text. How good is Blue cheese?. Text. Cool whotevs. Text. Miss you. Text. That’s probalby weird #soznotsoz. Text Text Text. Crazy.
I suffered a deep sense of shame, which also felt a lot like a hangover. Sooo I did what any girl would do and asked all my gal pals to give me their cray bitch stories. Instant self-esteem booster.
Want to make me feel better about myself? Share your cray bitch story with me. Find the 50 shades of cray blog here.