We all have a drunk persona.
Whether we are spreading the flirtation like a thick glitter sauce, telling tall tales like unstoppable verbal vomit, or jumping on tables and throwing a party-fit about petite cups of liquor (shots), we all have those little things in the backs of our minds that should stay hidden in most situations. Basically, everyone becomes a slightly different version of themselves when drinking.
Not me. I become someone else entirely.
I become sailor-mouthed Samuel L. Jackson.
Let me tell you what happens when I drink:
Physically, everything about me stays the same.
When I go out, I have one drink.
Then two (because I do not feel the first one).
I begin to wonder if the barmen have been overcharging me for soda, not mixed drinks.
Then three because I feel a slight tingle but I’m still sober and my friends seem drunk.
Then, something magical happens.
I feel the change. I feel stronger. Invincible.
I also feel the need to say “muthafucka” eight times per sentence.
Let me give you an excerpt from my book of life.
One night, not long ago:
Recently drunkified, I go to congratulate the barman for awakening the Samuel within and find myself confident enough to be friendly with everyone at the bar—no, not like that.
I bump into a couple and start talking with them. A normal person would just nod and say, “Hello” and then pretend nobody but their friends (or phone) exists. That’s what my shy, self-conscious, nervous, interview-failing self would have done.
But alas, I am no version of myself when drunk. I don’t even consider I’m drunk.
I just think that I am Samuel L. Jackson, like a superhero transformed, and my superpower is to nonchalantly say, “muthafucka.”
So, I start talking to the couple.
Every single word is a lie.
I create some elaborate story about how “my muthafuckin’ husband and I are muthafuckin’ actual muthafuckin’ MMA fighters and we fight in our spare time, muthafuckas,” but I’m smiling all the while, friendly as ever but lying and cursing like a sailor.
Keep in mind, I look nothing like someone who could ever be an MMA fighter; for example, I look like the most I can lift is a utensil and that maybe the only thing I have every intimidated is the dead food on my plate. Even Tinkle knows I’m full of fluff.
Somewhere in the middle of my MMA tale, I had the feeling they did not believe a word I said. They were laughing. So I think to myself, “They think I’m one drunk muthafucka,” and kept it to myself because clearly, I was not drunk. Duh.
To be honest, my drinking persona has changed over the years, matured as I’ve “seen some shit,” and I used to be more flirtatious and charming as I recall (which I now realize is unreliable information). Oh, but the invincibility was still there. Oh, yes. That is a different story altogether and ain’t nobody got time for that shit today.
Anyways, my theory is that Samuel adhered to my drinking psyche around the time I got into a serious relationship with my husband. After things got real, I had neither desire nor need to be found attractive or liked (by any definition of the word) by anyone but Husband. Samuel not only scares away the flirts, but also exposes the friends. People who find themselves laughing at the bullshit (that falls like rain from my mouth) tend to be cool people.
In short, I do not want the challenge that comes with accidentally attracting someone. I have no need to show my feathers; I become Samuel, and tell extremely obvious lies blended elegantly with the word “muthafucka” to let people know I’m unavailable.
Because the only person who matters is my husband.
And he loves Samuel.
And he loves me.
No, I do not really think I am Samuel L. Jackson. I just really love quoting his movie characters and having a serious sailor mouth when I am out because Samuel LJ seems to me the epitome of party. I have a deep respect for him as an actor and know his talents extend well beyond fun profanities.