My first case of 'word vomit'

In the past forever since I’ve updated last, I’ve experienced a few firsts. I cooked Mexican for 11 people (no food poisoning for anyone), I visited the Alumni Chapel, I managed to have a monstrous case of intoxicated word vomit (I’ll explain), and, oh yeah, I voted in my first presidential election.

Now, I’m sure most of you can relate to most of those, but I’m positive a lot of you can relate to word vomit. For those of you who are lucky enough to have never experienced the vomskies — don’t. What it entails is spewing words out of your mouth (or in my case, onto a keyboard) that shouldn’t be said, and also don’t need to be said.

My case of word vomit extends to a former fling, who, after a few too many on both of our behalves, seemed like the perfect person to talk to on a Saturday night.

Looking back on the situation, there was no reason for me to talk to him. Nilch, nada, zero. He isn’t that appealing, his humor is overrated, and he’s no James Franco. But he’s nice, wasn’t totally unfortunate looking (the million years ago that it happened), and seemed worthy of a “hello.”

The problem with alcohol is that what should be a “hello” turns into a “why didn’t we ever work out” which turns into a sad, pathetic mess of “this is our last semester in the same city, and we have to hang out more.”

There were drunken spills of details that shouldn’t have ever been brought up again, and there was the inevitable “do you miss us?” conversation.

And just when I thought I was done being emo, whiny, and too analytical, I just kept on spewing, hurling even, word vomit all over my computer screen. It’s one of those thoughts that makes me shake my head in pure disgust.

Now let’s note this: I am not the type of girl to sit around and mope over a guy. I get up, I get on, and I peace out. But for some reason, this boy is the north pole to my south pole magnet after too much to drink.

It’s the morning after a conversation like that where you try to tell yourself that it was just a friendly convo about life and classes — until you search your recent chats and find a few hundred lines about the past. A past that didn’t mean anything — a past that consisted of drunk, decent hook-ups and way too much emotion on my end. Ew.

A lot of my friends have had issues with this same epidemic. Whether it’s text messages or drunk voicemails or instant messages, there’s always a method of regret the next day. The best medicine to word vomit is to completely avoid any contact whatsoever. Trust me.

While said word vomit victim is still a good friend, I find it necessary to keep the peace. But next time I think spending a Saturday night pouting in front of my computer is a good idea, I’ll make sure to channel my energy into writing a blog for this instead. (Reporters note: I just read over the conversation again. Ughhh, I think I’m about to get sick for real this time … )