Blood on my hands…

I hope you all had a fun and romantically charged Valentine’s day alongside your significant other. If you’re single, hope you were drunk. I know I was. I actually threw my first house party this weekend. My (single) friends wanted to do something special for Valentine’s, like get out of town or throw a party. I wasn’t really feelin’ going out of town or going to a club in general, and a house party seemed like more fun and convenience. For change of scenery’s sake and to prevent getting in trouble by the university, I opened up my home to my friends and their liquor.


I had the house to myself all weekend; well, it was me and the cats
so I thought it’d be the perfect time to have a lot of people over. We wouldn’t be bothering anyone!
I spent two days prior to Valentine’s sweeping, doing dishes, hunting for hidden furballs and thinking about what makes a good party host. I really wanted it to look festive and be better than my friend’s, who always wants us over at her place for shitty dead parties (no offense to her or anything).
However, like many young people in the world trying to make something of themselves during/after college, I was on serious budget.
I really wanted to have food and drinks (alcoholic, of course) provided, just in case people come without a drink or not enough.
I have to say, everything turned out just fine. Instead of ordering pizza, I took my happy ass to food lion and got a couple pizzas from there. Thank God I did that too! They were having sales all over the place!
  • I picked up some candy, because what’s Valentine’s day without chocolates
  • chips and salsa, because what’s a party with out it!?!
  • STRAW-ber-RITAs, to keep buzzes going
  • air fresheners, to conceal the kitty litter odor
  • candles, because the air fresheners weren’t doin’ it
  • paper towels cause I was expecting spills
  • 2 Pizzas, because it’s PIZZA!
  • coke and sprite, for the non alcoholics. But really, it’s for mixing the alcohol.
  • eggs and ramen, to replace the eggs and ramen I took from my roommate.
And I didn’t even break bank like I thought I would. It would’ve been like 50 bucks, but since I had a few fierce coupons and a membership card, I got them bitches for 40!!


The house was decorated, drinks were cold, food was ready, air was fresh(er), the music was playin’ and my guests were swayin’! Hunny, what more could a girl ask for.
Sadly, the night didn’t end on a very good note and I do blame myself, despite how many of my friends tell me it was ok.
So, my friend got a call from this other group we’ve been hanging out with lately, and they were talking about going out of town.
I didn’t really wanna go, because I was having a bomb ass time right where I was, but my friend who got the call really wanted to go, since he had never been to this place in Wilmington, NC called Ibiza Nightclub.
I ended up saying fine, but felt so bad for the people that weren’t going. I felt like I was running them out and telling them that they had to find something else to do now. That in itself was already hard to bare.
When everyone left and my friends and I met up with the people wanting to go out of town, they were under the impression that I still wasn’t coming and had no room in the car. They also went off about how late we were meeting them and then everyone started going back and forth. A lot of bickering, a lot of stress over nonsense, a big waist of time energy and a good inebriated state.
We ended up staying local and went to our local token gay club here. While on the way there, I got the text saying that one of my guests from before had fallen down the stairs and cracked his head open. I have never felt genuine guilt and regret of going against my initial gut feeling.
I felt like, if I would’ve told my friend I wanted to stay in my house at my party that I put a lot of fucking work and thought into, everyone else would have stayed and I would not have to go on living the rest of my life with blood on my hands and the guilt and burden of killing a man… well, almost. The guy that fell called me to tell me he’s not dead and that he only has a small bruise on his forehead. Hunny, that didn’t stop me from crying and feeling like shit! I totally thought he cracked his head open, exposing his brain and had to be rushed to the ER to get his skull stapled together. He also had gotten a new haircut that night, so I totally was thinking that shit was ruined. There goes 20 bucks down he drain!
I’m glad he’s alive and well though. He even was able to come over again the next day for my “Kill the bottle, not the person” party. He just came to pick up his alcohol, but Hunny, that was all I needed to give me some closure on the subject!


Thanks for reading!


Hunny, tell me 'bout it!

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