The first time I got drunk, I was 18 years old, a senior in high school, and it was off of cheap champagne. Cooks Brut, to be exact.
I had been “fake drunk” for almost an entire year before that. I remember going to a Halloween party (dressed as Morrissey because that was the kind of closeted game I was working back then), taking two sips of vodka and pretending to be blackout wasted for the rest of the night. I imitated farm animals, tripped over coffee tables, told friends “I FUCKING loved them.” Everybody bought it.
The truth was that I hated the taste of alcohol and only until I discovered champagne did I find it to be tolerable. I drank the entire bottle to myself because I thought that’s how much you needed to drink to really feel it. My body felt warm, my face felt hot, I…
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