Rule #4

Rule #4

Drunk texting happens. If you are embarrassed by your previous night’s sext texting ALWAYS blame it on your friend.

*Side note: this is also a friend test

I must say, I have been blessed to have some of the most amazing friends. They are loyal, lushes, and just crazy enough to keep me entertained. We have caught ourselves multiple times in drunken conversations that involve the men in our lives, past and present.  The stories we’ve shared about husbands, ex-husbands, and ex-boyfriends would make you cry of either tears of hysteria or sheer terror. But, what makes them true friends is their ability to lie on my behalf.

With all the deep conversation that comes with one too many glasses of wine, or in my case vodka, comes the inevitable drunken text message. One would hope, with all the battery usage during the day from emails, checking Face Book, and playing Words with Friends that in our most drunken and vulnerable time our phone WOULD be dead…but it never is. What I need is an app that deletes all the male phone numbers out of my phone after I've had more than four vodka sodas (with a lemon and a lime please). 

Some say that oysters are an aphrodisiac. I disagree. I'm going with alcohol as the number one panty dropper around. Pretty soon the “I misss yu” and “I aawd just thusnkin abit us” start flying through the phone. The funny thing being is that they are barely legible. Honestly, I’d rather my texts NOT be decipherable then to have my ex know I want his "thunder stick" one more time. But of course that is never the case. Please note that by this point your loyal friends have matched you drink for drink and are not about to choke hold you just to stop that last message you sent to the "dick doctor" (who you dumped last month) asking if you could swing by for a "check-up".

The next morning you wake up barely remembering the previous nights events, and wince in pain as you roll over to see your phone on the nightstand. Because you know… YOU KNOW!  It's that sickening feeling in your stomach (no not your hangover, the other sick feeling) that lets you know that you texted from your vagina last night, not your head and clearly not from your heart. If you’re anything like me you probably pace around for a good hour or so before even picking up your phone to review the previous night’s scripted debauchery.

In my most recent encounter with this scenario - and thank God I wasn’t the victim this time - my friend was in town for a visit so we went out for a little nightlife. We arrived at our last alcohol dispensary for the evening and happened to run into a male friend of ours who we both use to work with. Now readers please be aware that previously there was some significant flirtation between my friend and this guy who we'll call George (George is appropriate based on the fact that his sexy salt and pepper hair is very much like Clooney’s). Anyways, despite the fact that George is a tad bit older, lives with his girlfriend, and was in fact with his girlfriend at the time we ran into him, I didn't feel the need stop her when she proceeded to ...how should I say it... “eye-fuck” him all night. Just a few harmless sultry glances right? At least that is all I thought went on until I checked MY phone the next morning.

After reading, then re-reading my texts from the previous night I quickly realized how much alcohol I did in fact consume the night before. I accessed the situation and decided that there was NO WAY even in my horny, drunken, letting-my-vagina-text-for-me state, I would have sent such dirty messages to George. Then “ding” the light bulb went off. Three pain pills and about an hour later, my friend calls me and proceeds to tell me that she "might" have texted George from my phone the night before. We compared messages to try and piece together the jest of what George received between her phone and mine. She is absolutely mortified at this point, not only because she sent extremely kinky messages to our friend, but she just confirmed to me that she is in fact a closet freak.

Solution: I sent the texts. All of them. My phone, her phone. All of them.

My friend via text of course: “Sorry about those raunchy texts George, Lois had my phone last night and was being an ass and wouldn’t give it back…I just read them, how embarrassing…I’m going to kill her for that…Yea, she’s crazy….It was good seeing you the other night... Well talk to you later.”

Me: "George, did you love those texts last night? BAHAHAHA. Had you going good!"

Believable? Maybe… More than likely- probably not. Never the less it made my friend feel a whole lot better going throughout her day knowing that George possibly thinks it wasn’t her sending the messages. It was her crazy friend, me. No matter how ridiculous I have to sound the next time I see George, and how many lies I'll have to spew on her behalf, I have comfort in knowing that that bitch would do the same thing for me. After all, what are friends for?