I awaken with a start. The lights are on and there’s a figure looming over me. I sit up and rub my eyes. Slowly the figure comes into focus.

It’s my girlfriend. Only it’s not the girlfriend who left the flat a few hours earlier: this one’s louder. And unsteadier.

“Baby I’m gonna be sick,” she says and totters to the bathroom.

Welcome home, Princess.

In the beginning, there was tipsy

She’d departed, around 11:30, in a flurry of hairspray and I love yous. According to the phone on the bedside table, it’s now 3:37am. I check my messages.

The first text of the evening – the one I’d read before passing out – was quite sweet. The almost sober ones always are:

Then later came this effort:

Followed by this one, which tapers off suddenly:

Now she’s home and, having successfully negotiated the bathroom, is trying to have sex with me. I politely decline.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll be sick on me.”

For the next 15 minutes, Princess cycles through the roles that everyone assumes when they’re completely cunted: stifle spew, eat pizza, demand sex and recount the same story 9,000 times over.

Tonight, Princess is extra drunk. She’s reached a stage of drunk that I christened last month in a blog called 50 Great Names for Drunk. She’s locked out – so drunk she can’t remember the code for her phone.

#REKT

When your partner has gone full Winehouse, you’re supposed to put her to bed, tell her you love her and prepare to spend the next day nursing her hangover with fluids, vitamins and hot soup. That’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s what I’ve faithfully done for the past five years.

I don’t rage when she gets hammered every other weekend. I don’t complain when she promises the world and then promptly passes out. I don’t even get rustled when she starts shamelessly flirting with my mates.

Hold her hair; hear her stories; mop her puke. I’ve done it all and I’ll continue to do it all, cos that’s how love works. I’m sure she’d do the same for me, if I was unable to handle my drink. Five years, and not once has she had to dodge my spew or suffer my cool stories.

Well tonight that’s going to change. Tonight I’m going to tell a cool story of my own – and Princess is going to be the star of it. I pick up my phone, locate the voice recorder and press the red button.

Raged hard

When Princess discovers what I’ve done, she’ll be mad. She’ll shout and glower and there’ll probably be tears. The rage will be aimed at me, but in truth, it’s not me she’ll be mad at. Deep down, she’ll be mad at herself, for having spoken so much shit in the first place – shit that’s now staring back at her in the cold, sober light of the next day.

Get drunk and babble at your boyfriend often enough and eventually he’s gonna record that shit and put it on the internet. She’s a hammered woman. I’m a trolling blogger. It was inevitable.

Princess; guys; girls: this is what you sound like when you’re drunk.

(My replies are in italics. For added authenticity, press play every time you see the Vocaroo button.)

Moulin rouged

“X has got a Serbian cat. No, it’s not Serbian, what is it? It’s Persian. But it’s not all Persian, it’s just a bitty Persian.”

“And I said [gasps like a Minion from Despicable Me]”

Actual recording of drunken Princess doing Minions >>

“And X was like “Princess, you’re a whole bitty drunk.””

“And I said [Minion gasp]”

“And X was like “Princess, you’ve got the big run to do in March so you can’t be a too bit drunk over the next few weeks,” and I said “OK.””

“And X said [mumbling with mouth full of pizza] “Princess, if you wear the pink headband you’ll have to keep running.” Cos you said my running skills so far [unintelligible] that you can’t any other colour of headband.”

And I said “Can me and X not wear blue and green and all that?” And he was like “Well, you can’t just like, well, you know choose a colour.” “So put it this way: you got a whole bitty running. A nice colour. My headband.”

“Baby?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Ugh, I dunno the passcode to my phone.”

“Yeah it’s OK, we’ll fix it in the morning.”

“Princess does not know at all…..Silly Princess.”

“Can we actually get into it without knowing what it is?”

“We’ll have this conversation in the morning.”

The sex stage

Still eating pizza: “I love you.”

“Anon?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Can you do bad things to me?”

“Can you ask me that question when you don’t have your mouth full of pizza?”

“Anon?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Can you do bad things to [redacted]?”

“Have you finished eating your pizza?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I’m lying in bed with my back to her. I glance over my shoulder and laugh. “No you’ve not…Jesus!”

“One more mouthful!”

“Now I feel really guilty. Cos I’ve got no mouth full of pizza now….Anon?”

“What?”

“I’ve got no mouthful….of piiiiizaaaa”

“Baby?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I’ve got no pizza!”

The WTF stage

“Smelly,” she says playfully. “Cos you’re smelly! Anon?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Cos you’re smelly!”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Cos you’re smelly!”

“Ba–beey! Baby?”

“Mmm hmm?”

“Cos you’re smelly!”

[Pause]

“Cos you’re smelly!”

[Long pause]

“Cos you’re smelly!”

“Anon?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Cos you’re smelly! Cos you’re smelly! Smelly!”

“Anon?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Cos you’re smelly!”

Tersely: “OK, you did say.”

Hurt: “But I love you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Before tequila/After tequila

“Cos you’re smelly! Cos you’re smelly!”

“I’m just joking baby.”

The cool story stage

“Have you seen the Persian cat at X’s?”

“No, but you did mention it five minutes ago.”

“He’s a whole bitty…he’s a whole bitty Persian.”

“Cos you’re smelly!”

[Pause]

“I’ve got a different language on my phone.”

“Anon…anon?”

“Mm hmm?”

“What’s it doing on my phone?”

“We’ll still fix it in the morning.”

“What if they say they can’t fix it?”

“We’ll fix it in the morning, I promise.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a way to actually get it to disable…disable? Is there a way that actually you can get out of it?”

“Yes.”

“How does it work?”

“As I said to you ten minutes ago, we’ll have this conversation in the morning.”

“What did you say?”

“We’ll have this conversation in the morning.”

“I feel really silly. How can I not know my phone code?”

“It’s in Chinese. It’s in Chinese, Anon…I don’t remember my phone number.”

“Can we just do it in six minutes it says.”

“Mm hmm.”

“What does it mean by we’ll just do it in six minutes? What does it mean by six minutes?”

“It means go to sleep and we’ll try it in the morning.”

“How do you get rid of it in the morning?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

The sleep stage

“You’re silly….They don’t realise that actually, you’re supposed to get rid of it. In the morning.”

“Anon?”

“Mm hmm?”

“Can you…can you put the light off? I’m ready to go to bed now.”

“Anon?”

“Mm hmm?”

“You don’t know.”

“Anon?”

“Mm hmm?”

“I’m a whole bitty asleep. And we were playing the water game. And then I fell asleep.” [She’s referring to Where’s My Water, which she was playing on her iPad yesterday.]

“How good was the water game?”

“It was good.”

“And then I found a way…to bed.”

[Sleeping sounds]

—★★★—

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