Note: The Rules & Guidelines for the Yes Test can be found here.
I haven't slept more than a handful of hours in the past few days. Apparently I've decided I'm on some sort of mission to test the strength of my liver and the speed of my metabolism in my last few days in Vancouver, because I've upped my drinking and emotional eating game. The emotional eating is a direct response to my fear and anxiety surrounding my general lack of plan, as well as the fact that I do not like the apartment I've been in for the past six weeks. It's sandwiched between two construction sites so there's daily banging, hammering, and screeching. It's also not particularly comfortable, and the whole thing needs a major deep clean. Every time I walk in here, I have the overwhelming urge to pick all of the chocolate chips out of a bag of chocolate chip cookies or eat an entire container of hummus, so Summer Fresh brand hummus has me to thank for upping it's second quarter sales.
The drinking, though, can definitely be traced back to the Yes Test. It's not like I've transitioned from a glass or two of wine to downing a liter of Popov on a Tuesday, but my going out frequency and arbitrary glass-of-something has increased. I didn't plan to drink half a bottle of wine on the nude beach a few days ago, but it appeared and so I did. I didn't think I'd have three margaritas on a Monday, either, but a first date that came about thanks to the electric banana sushi altered that plan.
I realized a few nights ago, as I was planking on a sticky barstool after losing a bet at the bar I wouldn't normally have gone to if I hadn't had to say 'yes,' that in my 10ish years of social drinking and going out, I always left the gathering early because I assumed that the intensity of the merriment would continue at the same rate of speed. For example, if we spent two hours at Bar A and two hours at Bar B, I assumed that when we moved to Bar C, the group was more or less committed for another two hours. If my pace was two drinks at Bar A and two drinks at Bar B, I was in for two more drinks at Bar C. Crossing the line from three drinks to four is usually where I put my limit, so going from four to six is beyond what I would consider reasonable for an unremarkable evening out. And so, instead of going to Bar C, I'd choose to go home.
I swear, in the past decade it has never once occurred to me that it was possible to get "one more drink" with a group of people and then go home (along with every one else) twenty minutes later. The past two nights, that's exactly what has happened. We have a few drinks, change locations just to hang out a bit more, and then everyone goes home. I know that most of you are just like obviously that's what we do, Brooke. Not everyone is out getting blackout until 4 am every night. How have you missed this?
I have no idea how I've missed this. Or maybe this is just want it looks like to be social in your 30s, and in my head I'm still stuck in what it's like to be social in your 20s. I don't know, I'm so tired I'm not thinking clearly. Or writing well. Or functioning on a basic level.