Oh yeah, that's why I shouldn't drink...

I am moving towards the end of a very slow recovery from last night. My stomach feels a little queasy, my head is heavy, I keep yawning and my eyes hurt.

A few weeks ago, G. and I ran into a friend from college, J. We lost touch about three years ago when I moved to Albuquerque and she moved to California. It was such a nice surprise to see her. So yesterday afternoon, she calls me up to join her for happy hour at some place on the Westside. It was totally unexpected and spontaneous. I decided to go despite heavy Friday traffic to get across town. G. stayed at home with Filomena.

I get to the bar and her group was finishing up with the happy hour. J. and I chatted about what she was up to, what I was up to, it was really fun. We decided to have dinner and then she would meet one of her friends to go someplace else and I planned on heading home at that point. Over dinner, J. and I talked a little about UTEP and shared grad school experiences. She dealt with an advisor FROM HELL who made her program really difficult and created all sorts of problems and conflicts within that department. The real tragedy is that this professor is a very well known Chicano/a historian who is a huge advocate for getting more Chicanos through grad programs. Turns out, at least from J.'s experiences, she is not very sympathetic to students that work with her. We talked about how disappointing it is as a young grad student to deal with professors who turn out to be jerks. I mean, they are like any other group of people, but for some reason, I expect more from them.

Talking with J. reminded me how much I miss my friends in Albuquerque and my two best friends who live elsewhere. I hate to use the phrase "girl talk" because it wasn't really "girl talk" (we didn't talk about eyeshadow and tampons, for instance) J. is an awesome person and talking to awesome people is one of the best feelings (and something I don't do often enough outside of G.)

J.'s friend joined us at the end of our dinner and I was so excited to be out-and-about that I decided to join them at another bar. It's about 8, 9-ish at night. They chose a downtown bar that I was pretty sure was a gay bar. That's not a problem, it just got me thinking that maybe J. had more to tell. As soon as I walk in, a former student comes up to me, "Hi Ms. M. How are you?" This is actually a fairly common occurrence for me. All I could remember about this guy was that he got a B and his name was actually three first names. I tell him that he can call me Vanessa. After all, he's an ex-student and it's just ridiculous to be called Ms. M at a bar. So, he goes away, and we find a table and order drinks. Then, he comes back and offers to buy me and my friends drinks. Sure, why not? We chat a bit and I start to wonder if he's gay (we were in a gay bar); if so, why is he being so nice to me?; if he's straight, this is a little weird; does he think I'm gay? (again, we were in a gay bar). It gets a little more interesting when he comes over again with an invitation to his birthday party next weekend and the party is at this same bar. Hmmm...J. said this guy was showing his appreciation for teaching such an great history class. Not sure how I should take it, but it was nice of him anyway and he seemed like a friendly person.

So, little by little, J. reveals that she is gay and this other friend was an ex-girlfriend. Crazy. We tried to keep talking above the music, which was really good dance music. I couldn't resist dancing for much of the night. Then it was like, oh hell, it's 2 am, I NEED TO GET HOME.

Well, I got home and promptly went to sleep, but sleep, sleep, and more sleep couldn't save me from feeling like crap today.

Sometimes, I get all nostalgic about how much I used to go out-- back when spending eight hours in a bar was no problem and I could easily rebound the next morning. What usually shuts the nostalgia shit down is the day-after a night like last night. I had so much fun reconnecting with a good friend and being social. That part was fine, it was super fun (although I really wished G. was there). Unfortunately, the social part always comes with the hangover part--not just drink, but lack of sleep. I end up wasting the day away in bed and willing myself not to throw up. Harsh reminder that I'm just not cut out for that anymore.

On the plus side, J. is my new (old) friend.