Op-Ed: If I Don’t Have The Courage To Drunk Dial My Ex, Who Will?

At some point in your life, you come to a decision that will define who you really are as a person. You have to ask: am I a person of conviction? Do I have what it takes? Will I stand up for what I believe, against all odds? You have to ask:

If I don’t have the courage to drunk dial my ex, who will?

Sure, we didn’t leave it on the best of terms. In fact, the term used might have been “don’t fucking call me when you’re like this, asshole.” But who knows what those words might have meant in the heat of the moment? Strong words come with strong emotions, but time allows us to see everything more clearly. Granted, I’m mostly seeing double right now, but the point stands.

There was a time when I thought I didn’t have it in me. But now that I have the better part of a rack of Coors Silver Bullets and a few pulls of my buddy Zakk’s flask in me, I think I might be able to find that bravery within myself. I’ve seen others try to drunk dial their ex, to reach out from the mists of a bottle of cheap Scotch and rekindle that love, starting with a long-drawn-out “heeeeeeeey” followed by a too-long pause and then “what you up to?” I’ve seen them want to do that, and be unable to follow through on it. I don’t want that. I don’t want to leave with that regret.

This is it. This is the moment that I prove myself. All I need to do is steel my resolve, finish this drink, take a hit off this bong, get a few more nips off Zakk’s flask full of Mountain Dew and gin, struggle to remember who I’m trying to call, and hit dial. This is it.

Okay. It’s going to voicemail. Fuck it.

I just miss you, Maria. Please call me back.