TMIT: Gay BFFs?

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!***

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I have only ever puked from drinking once in my life (DON’T HATE! And also? I’m knocking hardcore on some wood right now…TWSS). I had just graduated college and my two best guy friends from high school had decided very last minute to pay me a visit in Austin.

I hadn’t seen either of them in quite some time…hadn’t even spoken to one of them since we’d graduated, but it didn’t matter, I was beyond excited to see them. Since we had all been goody two-shoes in high school and none of us drank, we decided it would be appropriate to get nice and drunk for our reunion.

The evening started at Macaroni Grill, where I had two, MAYBE three glasses of wine (but I really think I’d only had two). We stopped at a liquor store on the way home for some vodka and cranberry juice and I sent texts and made phone calls inviting people to my house to come hang out with us and party.

I should probably tell you at this point that

1. despite the fact that I now drank, I was still kind of a lightweight.
2. one of my friends was quite a heavyweight drinker and had a history of ridiculous behavior when drunk.
3. these two guys had been best friends since they were born 5 days apart and grew up sharing a backyard.
4. they had come to visit because they decided to bail on their annual camping trip due to freezing, rainy weather.

When we got home, I let my heavyweight drinker friend mix me a drink that I swear to you was half a solo cup of vodka with a splash of cranberry juice. I promptly proceeded to suck that thing down (NEVER DRINK ALCOHOL THROUGH A STRAW. Lesson learned.) and ask for another. By the time my local friends started arriving an hour later, I was already sloppy drunk.

The last thing I remember is sitting in my living room floor playing Fuck the Dealer and being so messed up that the concept of the game was completely lost on me. They said higher and I guessed lower. It was…not good.

The rest of the night has since been pieced together based on a combination of first-hand accounts from the participating parties, as well as testimony from other party guests. Here is what I am told happened:

Non-heavyweight drinker friend and I disappeared upstairs, where we apparently made out for a short while until I decided that maybe, perhaps, I was going to be sick.

Said friend literally held my hair back and sat in the floor of the bathroom with me while I proceeded to puke my guts up. I have vague, in and out memories of this, including quite a few slurred “I’m so sorry”s. When he was convinced I had completely emptied the contents of my stomach, he put me to bed.

This friend then returned downstairs to find that Heavyweight Drinker had decided that it was very rude of the two of us to leave him to host my party. He was too drunk for the “she was puking her guts up” logic to prevail. He was angry. He threw a punch. He received a punch. My other local friends had to pull Heavyweight Drinker away and calm him down.

Heavyweight Drinker then realized what he had done and immediately started crying and apologizing while professing his love to my other friend. The overwhelming consensus among those present (one of whom knew these guys from high school) was that this was not drunken “I love you man,” this was all out, pent up homosexual affection.

My local friends were thoroughly creeped out and started making their way home from the party. I woke up freezing my ass off and was trying to warm myself on my space heater when my caretaker comes upstairs and says to me “Heavyweight Drinker just took off down the street with no shirt and no shoes on. We have to go find him.” You’ll recall that it’s freezing and wet outside.

We loaded up in his car and drove up and down my street (a street large enough to have an exit off the highway) calling for our friend. We finally spot him on a porch, hiding from us. I got out of the car and coaxed him to come home with us. We put him to bed on the couch with a trashcan next to him and went upstairs to pass the fuck out.

I would not find any of this out until the next day, when my phone was ringing off the hook with friends calling to ask me if I’d heard what had happened. My friend Daniel would later attribute Heavyweight Drinker’s actions to drinking “the trifecta” (liquor, beer and wine) all in one night. His college roommate would later regale me with many more ridiculous stories about his drunken shenanigans.

They drove home together the next day. I have no idea whether they discussed the love confession or not (or if it was even the first time that had happened). I rarely see or hear from the friend who took care of me, but I will forever be grateful for the shit he endured that night while I was unconscious.