too drunk for comfort

The medrep guy was at Waterfront for a convention and I was at Starbucks with my girls. His hotness  ex-teammate who is an ex-PBA player from San Juan Letran who wanted to hang out with me that night and I blew off medrep guy. His name was M who was just in Cebu for vacation and wanted to check out what’s hot in the city. “Gala tayo.” He said. “I’ll be waiting at the cafe.”

Then he came and whew, hot: 6 feet tall, clean shaven and the boyish grin. I introduced him to Mitz and Kitz (Granny Goose invented our friendship) and I realized when he leaned over that he stank of alcohol. Getting drunk before starting the party? Major turn off. I told him he can go around Crossroads, The Loft, and Formo. He said he’ll just bring his friend home. His friend is gay. More raised eyebrows. A basketball player and a gay guy is highly wholesome. He had been gone for an hour and he told me why couldn’t we just meet up in his hotel in five minutes. I sent a text to his hotness saying his friend is an a-hole and decided to tell medrep that I’m seeing him tonight.

He called right away. “Hey, baby. I am so drunk right now. I’m picking you up. Where are you?”

“Ayala.”
“Okay.” There was loud laughter in the background. “I’m on my way there. Where are you again?”

I hung up. He came in ten. I went up to the car and he was busy cleaning the passenger seat from receipts and unopened mints to notice me. “Aren’t you coming in?” I asked.

“No, I am too drunk.” His words were a cross between slurring and lisping. I rolled my eyes and went back to the girls. I told them we were leaving and would they want to meet him? They said yes and I crossed my fingers that he will at least be not too drunk to say hi.
I opened the door. “Say hi to my friends.” I demanded.

He grabbed my hand and I had to haul him up. I can’t look at the girls in the eye anymore. The necessary introductions were made and he rattled off a series of sorrys that I had to stop him before he goes overboard. “Sweetie, they’re going home.”

“Well, let’s take them home.” he said.
“They can go home themselves. They have a car.”
“Oh.” He looked at them as though he was looking at them for the first time and he said goodbye. I waved to the girls and was about to tell him his behavior wasn’t necessary when he shoved me his car keys. “Drive me. Take us home.”

I slid into the car and didn’t say anything. This is turning out to be the worst drunken night. We got to his apartment and I was already fuming mad. I cannot believe I’m doing this but I’ve never slung a man’s arm around my neck for him to be carried to his bed. I have never taken a man to his restroom to pat his back while he puked on the toilet. The stench by the way is incredible. We went back to the room and just when he settled himself on the bed did he get up again and I knew he wanted to vomit for the nth time. I counted one to ten and thanked God for giving me the gift of patience. While wondering why the hell I am staying, I also wondered why I tolerated this behavior when I just blew off the Letran guy who also reeked of vodka.

The spate of puke – the puke brigade – lasted for a good ten minutes and we all fell asleep exhausted.

I woke up the morning after and he was already freshened up. “Hey..” He stroked my hair and said, “Thanks for last night. You deserve the best breakfast in the city.”

I half-opened one eye and mumbled, “Pancake House?”
“Going,” he said and he was back to his old self again.

When we got to the car, he looked at me with a confused look on his clean-shaven face. “Who drove us home?”

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