Some people hold the belief that drinking is a marathon, not a sprint. They’d rather nurse the same beer for a couple hours while the rest of us split pitchers and get in a groove. It’s all the same to me – if you don’t want to over-indulge, then more power to you. Some people don’t take to drinking for any number of reasons, and that’s perfectly respectable. Having a good time doesn’t require complete obliteration, it just helps some of us. Typically, the sober guy is the one who keeps his shit together and ensures the safety of the group. He’s a good dude, and one that’s handy to have around in an emergency. Still, there’s one variation of this person that needs to sit on it and spin.
When I wake up, groggy and with the weight of the world on my chest, the last phrase I want to hear is, “How are you feeling, buddy?” from some smug asshole. You know damn well how I’m feeling, and it’s not good. All I want is some Bojangles and a Simpsons marathon while I think about what a piece of shit I am. The last thing anyone with a pounding head and a serious case of the heebie-jeebies wants is to be mocked by a person who isn’t in the same situation. It’s like getting your ass kicked in a pick-up game against the college team: you’re trying really damn hard to keep it together, but you’re just powerless to respond in a serious way. It’s better to take heat from someone who’s also in their own personal hell, because that shit usually turns into a hilarious roast for the whole room. Morning after bull sessions are never fun with the “I feel fine” types.
Most of the smug comes from the question of “Do you remember when you…,” and that shit is just uncalled for. People like myself, who suffer from Perfect Drunk Memory (we’re getting close to a cure), explicitly remember throwing that dwarf in an armbar, dick. The four missed calls from your flavor of the month? Yeah, you probably fucked up and winked at her sister. Incessant reminders from Moderate Mark are just adding to the feelings of alcohol-induced regret. Luckily, it usually comes back around for the guy that likes to get wild on occasion. He knows how much shit he’s about to get after a couple hours of yakking, and he’s well aware of how much he deserves it.
Then, there’s the dude who’s never going to be hungover. He just doesn’t drink to excess because he’s a perfect storm of meathead and snob, but he’ll definitely go to great lengths to mock your situation. He knows exactly what went down because his entire persona rotates around a combination of other people’s lives and inadequacy. When dumbass decides to step up with a clever retort, just let him. Maybe sneak some laxatives in his protein, because I’ll take beer shits over violent post-workout poops any day, but mostly just realize that you’re a better person than him. While you make drunken memories and slam a chick from behind with a limp worm, he’s jerking off in the mirror.
If you are that guy, then I feel sorry for you. Not only because you masturbate to yourself (seek help, friend), but because you don’t get to experience the bond that all hungover people share. Whether it’s the guy sleeping in his eggs at Waffle House or the lady lying next to you, the hangover ensures that we all want the same things: greasy food, a quick orgasm, and so much water. As you sit in your ivory tower, intent on adding misery to our condition, we know that you’ll always be just another plebe with no zest for life. Our hangovers are badges of honor, and your disdain isn’t going to stop someone from earning another..