Last night I had great fun, I went out with friends and did the 12 pubs of Christmas. Well, in my case it was only the one pub because my bank account couldn’t afford the other 11, and well, you know, I was afraid I might die. By pub three I can assure you it would have been ‘Don’t wait around for me guys, go on without me, but don’t forget to tell my family I love them… ‘ as I casually slide off the bar stool and become a drunken mass of Christmas jumper and mistletoe on the floor. So no, on this particular night I decided to be sensible and my dads reaction of ‘Waheeeey, no tears!’ when he collected me at the end of the night proved that sensibility (I’m a crier.)
However, as I was sober and no longer the one crying, as the night progressed I asked myself, how many broken hearts are there in this room being disguised by a Christmas jumper? How many girls are hoping for their one love of Christmas while doing the twelve pubs of Christmas? There was the girl shouting at a guy as I got out of the car, there was the girl with mascara running down her face in the pub, and as I walked to get food at the end of the night there was the girl saying ‘I can’t believe he would do that after texting me all that stuff the other day.’ At some point, I have been all three of those girls. I have shouted my feelings in the face of ignorance, I have cried the same old tears over and over again, and I have asked myself ‘why would he do that?’ and still continue to ask myself whether it’s weeks or months later. We, the members of the female species have all been there. So, does a drunken mind speak a sober heart? Does alcohol express what we really need to say, or is it just speaking the words that really should remain unspoken? When I’m drunk I tend to say all the things I later regret saying, and when I’m not drunk there are so many things I want to say but can’t bring myself to say them. So, is vodka a helping hand or a curse?
As cheesy as it sounds, love really fills every room we ever walk into. Whether it’s happy love, bitter love, unrequited love, unspoken love, past love – the list is endless. I noticed that there was more than 12 loves of Christmas at the 12 pubs of Christmas, but everyone is absorbed in just one – no matter how frustratingly confusing, up and down, or logic and sense destroying that love may be. Ah, the joys of romance and tequila!