One Drink?
Is there such thing as one drink? You know when you say you are going out for one drink or a quiet one, has anyone ever actually done this? Because i reckon it's a myth. With it being a Sunday it becomes limited where you can go but we changed location and went to Woolton as a safe bet. We went to a pub i had been recommended and had planned to meet up with friends. Now these friends are from an online gaming social group. Not myself personally but its from PlayStation 4 online, so they are all playing Grand Theft Auto together and chatting shit for hours. This was the first time we all met in person, i suppose it's a better story than saying we all met through social media.
We arrived at the pub and it was so busy, like why are all these people out on a Sunday? As soon as we walked in some old guy, well dad age but not my type, grabbed my arm and wouldn't let me past. I've literally just stepped into the place. He introduced me to his friends sitting at his table and they are all thinking this guy actually knows me shaking my hand. I managed to escape and head straight the toilets. This is the standard procedure to start any girls night. Go check yourself in the mirrors and apply some lipgloss. As we walk in there are three girls in there all screaming drunk at eachother and its making me feel mega uncomfortable. F is in the mirror and i seem to have backed myself into a toilet cubicle out the way. Prepped we leave and find a seat at the bar. At this point I'm feeling so uncomfortable, my hands are actually shaking. I don't think people understand how hard it is to be in a public place when you have social anxiety. I need a drink and i need one quick. Large white wine for me, downing it as quick as possible. I feel fine after a few drinks, i could talk the ear off a donkey but those first moments when i am sober feel like hell for me.
Along came the guys we were meeting, I'm starting to feel more relaxed now. I've moved onto the pints by this point, my comfort drink. I always look weird drinking pints because I'm some blonde girl but i can outdrink a lot of lads. They introduced themselves and the conversations are flowing. The main topic is my pet chicken. Nobody ever believes a city girl can own chickens as pets, but i love my Dorris, she is like my puppy. Il tell you about her on another post. Now it's coming towards the end of the night and the pub is closing, and now we have all had a drink the question is where to next? From what i remember we did drive around Allerton looking for somewhere but everywhere was closing, so into Liverpool centre we go! Last place we actually wanted to go! We get to Red Door, now baring in mind i had already done a poll on my Instagram asking if i should have gone there in the first place and people all said no. lol. But once again, it was busy! I don't really have much to report from there as i was really drunk at this point but i do know i was being a wingman for one of the lads trying to pull this blonde girl. I'm all for chatting up the girls and bringing them over..
On from there we ended up in Heaven. Jesus Christ. This night is spiralling out of control. Although in there i bumped into another work friends from the Bar so that was a bonus.
I get home around 6am knowing i have to be up at 11am for the aerial man to come and get on my roof. I only just wake up with him basically hammering my door down but I'm glad i did wake! Can watch coronation street again! Now keep in mind I'm hungover, stale and still pissed. This guy starts working, i have a quick wash an freshen up and go talk to him proving I'm not actually a tramp. When this guy in a white van stops outside my house. He shouts me then when i turn around he says he thought i was somebody else. Okay then. But then, he drives around the block and stops outside my house again. And begins talking to me, well shouting across my driveway as I'm standing in my porch. He actually asks for my number. I'm shocked at this point. I'm standing there in my banana pyjamas, no makeup and my hair in a messy bun from the night before. But I'm guessing I'm not that bad looking of a morning if i can still get asked out on a date, god bless my sunbed lol. I'm screaming my number across the drive to this stranger knowing too well I'm never going to meet him, it was just a confidence boost. But also, after me doing abit of FBI searching, turns out he's married with three kids. TUT TUT.
So moral of the story; Sundays are still dangerous, Banana pyjamas are pulling attire and don't speak to strangers in white vans.
We arrived at the pub and it was so busy, like why are all these people out on a Sunday? As soon as we walked in some old guy, well dad age but not my type, grabbed my arm and wouldn't let me past. I've literally just stepped into the place. He introduced me to his friends sitting at his table and they are all thinking this guy actually knows me shaking my hand. I managed to escape and head straight the toilets. This is the standard procedure to start any girls night. Go check yourself in the mirrors and apply some lipgloss. As we walk in there are three girls in there all screaming drunk at eachother and its making me feel mega uncomfortable. F is in the mirror and i seem to have backed myself into a toilet cubicle out the way. Prepped we leave and find a seat at the bar. At this point I'm feeling so uncomfortable, my hands are actually shaking. I don't think people understand how hard it is to be in a public place when you have social anxiety. I need a drink and i need one quick. Large white wine for me, downing it as quick as possible. I feel fine after a few drinks, i could talk the ear off a donkey but those first moments when i am sober feel like hell for me.
Along came the guys we were meeting, I'm starting to feel more relaxed now. I've moved onto the pints by this point, my comfort drink. I always look weird drinking pints because I'm some blonde girl but i can outdrink a lot of lads. They introduced themselves and the conversations are flowing. The main topic is my pet chicken. Nobody ever believes a city girl can own chickens as pets, but i love my Dorris, she is like my puppy. Il tell you about her on another post. Now it's coming towards the end of the night and the pub is closing, and now we have all had a drink the question is where to next? From what i remember we did drive around Allerton looking for somewhere but everywhere was closing, so into Liverpool centre we go! Last place we actually wanted to go! We get to Red Door, now baring in mind i had already done a poll on my Instagram asking if i should have gone there in the first place and people all said no. lol. But once again, it was busy! I don't really have much to report from there as i was really drunk at this point but i do know i was being a wingman for one of the lads trying to pull this blonde girl. I'm all for chatting up the girls and bringing them over..
On from there we ended up in Heaven. Jesus Christ. This night is spiralling out of control. Although in there i bumped into another work friends from the Bar so that was a bonus.
I get home around 6am knowing i have to be up at 11am for the aerial man to come and get on my roof. I only just wake up with him basically hammering my door down but I'm glad i did wake! Can watch coronation street again! Now keep in mind I'm hungover, stale and still pissed. This guy starts working, i have a quick wash an freshen up and go talk to him proving I'm not actually a tramp. When this guy in a white van stops outside my house. He shouts me then when i turn around he says he thought i was somebody else. Okay then. But then, he drives around the block and stops outside my house again. And begins talking to me, well shouting across my driveway as I'm standing in my porch. He actually asks for my number. I'm shocked at this point. I'm standing there in my banana pyjamas, no makeup and my hair in a messy bun from the night before. But I'm guessing I'm not that bad looking of a morning if i can still get asked out on a date, god bless my sunbed lol. I'm screaming my number across the drive to this stranger knowing too well I'm never going to meet him, it was just a confidence boost. But also, after me doing abit of FBI searching, turns out he's married with three kids. TUT TUT.
So moral of the story; Sundays are still dangerous, Banana pyjamas are pulling attire and don't speak to strangers in white vans.
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