Bad Fucking Decisions Part 1

INTRODUCTION

This is about all those decisions you make, which when you do, you think, this is going to be amazing or I’ve really beaten the system. But then, at a point only known to your deepest enemies, it’s decided that this is the worst possible decision you could have ever made in your life. Something so stupid that makes you really question if you deserve the life you’ve got. Imposter syndrome on steroids. How fucking stupid could you have been?

I’ll share a few of my issues I’ve had and I’d love if you could send in yours, as I fear a couple of mine may not be relatable. This is part 1 of the series.

THE BABYBELL

One night, after an evening of an open bar, I experienced a wonderful journey home. Surprisingly, I thought it couldn’t get better. I finished in Paddington and decided, rather than catch the tube like a normal tired person at 9 p.m., I shall walk to London Bridge whilst drunk and see where the evening takes me.

I’d say I’m very gracious after a few. My running style has been described as very Gisele like, so I quite fancied my odds on a good walk to the station. It was so peaceful and relaxing. I felt on top of the world at that point and I was really loving my life. However, this all about to changed once I reached the station.

I had missed about three trains and could see that my last option was the final train of the evening. And so, instead of sprinting for the train, I ran into the Marks & Spencer and scoured the aisle looking for fuck knows what. I have a tendency for trying new foods on my drunk train journeys, and today was no different.

I had recently been paid and thought I’d treat myself to a Babybel. Not one, but the entire packet. We are told before drinking to eat toast or something like that so you don’t throw your guts up, but I thought no way I was going to miss out on this. Still haven’t learnt from a previous mistake of eating six kiwis and having severe diarrhoea. But besides, I boarded the train and glided down the carriages until I reached my spot.

I have the same seat that I try to sit in, but when I’m hammered I’ve got no idea if I stick to it. I rip open this bag of Babybels, and let me explain one Babybel at a time.

First one in. I feel good and refreshed. I had some water to help push the buggers down. One done, and yeah, I thought this was a great decision.

Second one in. Holy shit, that had toppled me. It felt heavy and I felt empty, but my stomach felt like it had a tower of Jenga and my dog had just knocked the tower over.

I thought this will be okay, and for reasons I do not know, I ate another one.

Third one down. You wouldn’t be surprised to know, it got worse. I was in deep shit. I started to rock side to side. I knew that tonight would be awful, but I had accepted my fate and ate another one.

I don’t know if it was the booze or just the fact I’m stupid, but the fourth one made me cry. Now imagine walking past me, Eating a Babybell like it’s a fucking burger, covered in sweat and tears. Mumbling and groaning as I rock from side to side. I even took my headphones off as no music could fix the state I was in. Nothing could stop me feeling like this. It was tragic. I started peeling the 5th one thinking it can’t be worse than that. But by the time I got the baby bell out of the wrapping we pulled into the last stop. It had taken me almost a hour to eat 4 baby bells and I was in a bad state. I wasn’t sick mainly as it was soon after being sick on the tube and there just too much sick for one week.