Alright, I’m a little peeved at Jenni for this blog topic. Not something I want to relive. Ever. I think my therapist is the only person I’ve told all the detail to.
- A wedding in Charleston.
- My boyfriend was best man.
- Passed drinks and hors d’oeurves.
- First mistake: thinking the cocktails were virgin and allowing another groomsmen to spike mine.
- Much more alcohol.
- Blacked out.
- Much vomit.
- Apparently ‘resting’ on the side of the road.
- My boyfriend telling the paramedics, that no, I was fine, scooping me into the car and driving off.
- Waking up on a lounge chair by a pool, no idea where I was, no one else around.
- Leaving with boyfriend at dawn.
- Apology note soon written to groom’s parents.
In any case, I’ve completely ruined Charleston for myself and I’m so grateful that the house my parents rented on Isle of Palms this summer isn’t on the same side of the island as the groom’s parents’ beach house (with the pool I woke up beside) or else I probably couldn’t bring myself to go back.
And I’m going to go hide in the corner now.