“I kinda wanna be more than friends, so take it easy on me.”
Everyone has that one friend for whom they secretly lust, but would never admit it for fear of rejection and/or loss of friendship. If you think that you’re one of the lone people that who doesn’t feel that this way, chances are you’re either in a relationship or in denial of said feelings. When I initially decided to write a guest column, I was going to pay tribute to my favorite hobby — drunk texting. I was inspired by the occasional mention of drunk texting in Cristina Stiller’s column, “Drunk-o, Dial-o, No Bueno” because it makes me feel better about my own drunk texting. Lately though, my friends have deemed my favorite hobby a “problem,” which was news to me. I was under the impression that everyone drunk texted. I like to joke that the popularity of drunk texting is evidence of Ke$ha’s influence; since she encourages getting your “drunk text on.” It honestly seemed like a valid argument — until my roommate reminded me of the rest of the lyric: “I’ll regret it in the morning.” Whoops.
Recently, however, I realized the only reason that I like to drunk text is because it allows Drunk Kat to say things Sober Kat would never say — especially when it comes to someone we will call “X.”
It all started last semester when I “accidentally” drunk texted X. He responded to Drunk Kat’s text and kept up the conversation for a while. As part of her scheme, Drunk Kat apologized, which X quickly accepted since he “loves drunk texts.” This would prove to be the start of a very bad habit for Drunk Kat.
Since then, I’ve used my drunken state as an excuse to occasionally text X. He always responds, leaving me in a state of confusion the next morning when I check my inbox and find confirmation that I did, in fact, text him — and yes, it was just as bad as I remembered it to be. At the same time, I figure that he must know why I drunk text him, and that it’s a good sign he responds. Right? Maybe?
“What are you waiting for? Take a bite of my heart tonight.”
If this sounds familiar, then you too are subjecting yourself to acts of cowardice. Don’t be fooled into thinking that texting is a less embarrassing or easier way to disclose your feelings. It’s often worse. I learned my lesson over Fall Break, when I woke up on Sunday morning and naturally checked my phone to survey Saturday night’s damage. Sure enough, another conversation with X was documented in my inbox. I finally understood what my friends meant — I know I like him, and if he truly returned the feelings, then I shouldn’t be starting conversations with “I drunk texted X.”
“I feel the chemicals kicking in … I wanna run and hide.”
This epiphany has thus led me to this column. Instead of this being a discussion of the appeal of drunk texting, it’s a good, ole fashioned declaration of love — well, lust really. Despite my commitment issues, I not so secretly hope that a modern Prince Charming will one day sweep me off my feet with some utterly romantic gesture that will make me change my ways. Alas, there is always the crushing reality that I am nothing more than a mere sophomore hopelessly in lust.
“And I won’t be denied by you.”
I’d like to think that writing this column is a few steps above drunk texting and a lot less more subtle overt in terms of disclosing my feelings, but not quite as extreme as “yelling it from the top of Libe,” as my roommate duly noted. I use the excuse of being drunk as an attempt to tell X how I feel, but I never quite manage to because real feelings make me nervous. They mean you care about someone and allow yourself to be hurt. Telling him in person requires bravery I don’t quite have, hence my written declaration of lust:
Dear X,
I know we’ve been friends for a while and that lately we’ve been working on being better friends, which is great. Except we both know the drunk texts mean something more — at least on my end. I know that this is a bold move on my part, and I don’t mean to scare you away, but something needed to be done. In case you haven’t already figured out the subtext of my drunk texts, I want you to make a move — or at least tell me where we stand.
-Kat
Original Author: Kat B.