I'm so embarrassed at myself. Had a great time with my chocolate cream soldier as per usual. He was delighted at the food i flung at him today. Leek and goats cheese tart and a side order of sweet potatoes. These buttery sweet things were new to him so I feel like I have done him a good service to make up for the horror of Wednesday night.
I can't actually remember parts of Wednesday night. I used to think that memory loss was a rouse to avoid embarrassment when people drink but I actually killed my memory cells. Good thing too perhaps.
It started off well, a glass of wine and a dvd of British public information films (by the way OLD FRIDGES CAN KILL, so I learnt from one of them. The darling and I are making jokes about fridges ad nauseaum. Come to think of it it's my fridge or contents of it that are killing me now... sweet irony)
We then moved on to watch a documentary about the Manchester music scene. All well. I was reaching the giggly phase. I recall drinking some of bottle number two of wine. The top and the bottom but the bit in the middle has vanished. I recollect being violently sick on my cream carpet and continuing to wretch. I have only been that drunk once before when i was 21. It was not very pretty nor was last night.
The honey said prior to up chucking I had ignored warning to stop drinking and insisted on listening to the Stone Roses at full volume as I sung along merrily at high pitch, managing to take the piss out of a couple of 60s bands at the same time. Once i was sick, he then put me unwillingly to bed, made me drink copious amounts of water and stayed with me to watch that i wasn't sick again. He even put the new mixing bowl i had bought him that day by the side of my bed just incase.
I woke up feeling ok but mortified that I had abused my body thusly. Today was about food. Back to two glasses of rum and coke and nothing else on a Wednesday night in future. I'm so disappointed in myself.