If you haven’t already, go read part one, otherwise this is not going to make any sort of sense.

So if you’ve followed the story so far, you’ll know that at this point I was already pretty hammered. The next part of the story consists mostly of what I heard from other people that were there that night.

After the “straf dop”, for a while I felt fine… mostly. There were some obvious signs that the alcohol was affecting me a little more than previously thought; slurring words, loss of balance, boosted confidence and a strong desire to jump in the pool naked. However with the slight amount of sense I had left I decided against jumping in, well at least not naked. I dove into the pool, after removing all my clothes except for my boxers. A few other people thought this was a good idea too and also jumped in. It’s from this point on that I can’t remember a fucking thing, so I’ll be relying on the stories I was told the next day.

Apparently after I stumbled out of the pool, I didn’t feel it necessary to get dressed again, so continued to party in my boxers. It was around this time that “Sakkie” felt that I was still not drunk enough and promptly organised a second “straf dop”, apparently I downed that one like a boss just as I did the first one.

He’s not drunk enough! Super Sakkie to the rescue

A few of my female friends were a little more merciful and tried to sober me up by feeding me birthday cake (Jane, this means you), little did they know that it was far too late for that. (I apparently even bit one of my best female friend’s fingers as she was trying to feed me the cake)

Remember my crush that showed up earlier that night? Well according to most people that saw this car crash waiting to happen, I felt that this was the perfect time to confess my undying love for her… Fuck, maybe I should explain: my crush and I were good friends and she had a boyfriend, so obviously she didn’t take this confession too well. After being let down easy I apparently broke the record for saying “I’m so sorry, please forgive me” the most in one night.

Well like most people that had just been shot down, I felt the only logical thing for me to do is drink more…

Fuck it it’s drinking time

While trying to pour a drink for myself while yelling “Eks fokken gesuip!” the table I was leaning on (which broke earlier that day and was badly fixed) collapsed, breaking every single glass, and bottle on it. My friends jumped a little at this but felt it was probably not that big of a deal. That was until someone saw the blood flowing from my foot, and freaked out. They carried me to one of our spare rooms, with my foot still bleeding fucking everywhere and put me on the bed. It may have been the blood loss or something, but I can vaguely remember lying on the bed while my brother tried to stop the bleeding. I looked up, and saw my dad looking at me in a way only a father could. It was a face that said “why the fuck did I decide to have kids”. My friends were trying to explain to him that you’re supposed to get this wasted on your 18th birthday, he didn’t agree.

Eventually the bleeding did stop, and I felt like it was time for round two! After a few more drinks I went to bed, but not before messaging my crush telling her again “I’m so sorry, please forgive me!” I never saw or heard from my crush again after that night… And the thing is I didn’t care, I enjoyed the fuck out of myself that night. I don’t think I would want to change a thing about it if I could.

Well, maybe I would want to go back and fix that table a bit better.
Written by Tank