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It takes a lot to make me cry. But loosing my credit cards, money, Blackberry, camera and, most importantly, favourite lipgloss will do it.

 

I just really loved the shade, you know?

 

The only thing I have ever enjoyed loosing is my virginity. And even then, I think I cried tears of disappointment. I don’t loose things. Other people may make a habit of loosing their keys, purse or mind, but my utter fear of RG’s wrath has meant that I have gone from childhood to adult childhood without ever loosing so much as time. Hence my reaction to the introduction of loosing everything one needs to function in the modern world is the metaphoric equivalent to the Gaza war.

 

There are some things that are OK to loose. Weight, for example, is synonymous with the good type of loss. Boyfriends can be enjoyable to loose at a certain point. Even misplacing a phone can be a fun game of Hide-And-Seek while you call it and follow the sound to under the couch, in the cupboard or down the toilet. But leaving your purse on a bar, going about your life and then realizing that you once had belongings when it comes time to buy another drink is so totally not fun.

 

I should not be entitled to possessions when I am drunk. I have woken up to find my shoes floating in a river after a night of floating in a barrel of Jack Daniels. I have spilt the Jack Daniels on a five hundred dollar silk shirt because I forgot where my mouth was. And I have sent the most disastrous drunken messages because no one confiscates my phone from me when I have well and truly discovered where Jack lives.

 

Before I lost my money, phone and, most importantly, favourite lipgloss, I was loosing my dignity by using the now-confiscated phone to enlighten everyone I have ever met on my thoughts at that exact moment in time. Which, due to lack of evidence, I can only imagine read like the ramblings of a lost mind.

 

Alcohol does interesting things to people. Or maybe alcohol makes people interesting? Who can tell? I do know that it makes people act, think and dance in a way they never would in their sober life. I would never bombard a crush with text messages about the size of my feet or my opinion on the Olsen Twins unless I had been getting acquainted with enough scotch to kill Mary-Kate. I would never cry in a bar and then run into a wall unless I metaphorically hooked a bourbon IV to my veins for six hours. And I would never loose my purse, dignity and, most importantly, favourite lipgloss unless I drank myself a new personality.

 

I woke up with the hangover of having to call too many people to apologize for my existence. I decided to start with American Express, seeing as they probably like me a hell of a lot more than my dad or my crush.

“We can send you a new card to Los Angeles. That is in Nevada, right?” I took comfort in knowing that I have to be drunk to be as stupid as an American Express employee.

I had a drink in preparation of calling RG.

“I lost my favourite lipgloss.” I decided to ease him into the situation. “andallofmycreditcaresmoneyphoneandcamera.”

He paused for a moment. “Which lipgloss?”

 

Having to acknowledge how irresponsible you are to the one person you want to prove your responsibility to is not fun.

“There is a lesson in this,” RG informed me. “What do you think it is?”

“That I should start drinking vodka and see if that is more successful?”

The lesson is that when you are making choices in the name of fun that negatively impact the rest of your life, maybe it is time to reconsider more than just what type of spirit to mix with ice.

Because as much fun as it is to be the drunkest person in the room, I don’t want Loosing My Dignity to be my new party trick. It was much more fun when I would just loose clothes.

 

Whenever I have behaved responsibly, I reward myself with presents (I call them “twenty year olds”). Whenever I have behaved irresponsibly, I punish myself to the extreme. I don’t make allowances for accidents because responsibility means that they should be few and far between. And so I pay for my mistakes. Well, I would if I had my credit card.

This is what being responsible is all about. 

After I managed to get everyone but my crush talking to me again, and treating me as some form of a human being above the hierarchical level of Dung Beetle, I sat down to relax and find my mind.

“Do you still want to kill yourself?” Mr LA called. “Why don’t we go and have a drink.”

 

Now I have to find my dignity.

 

 Post By Salium.