I saw this video today and thought it was so funny.

I especially loved it cause I am going through the pain now. And I hate that it coincides with my soberversary. All those post-acute withdrawal symptoms are very similar to menstrual problems. But I am feeling good except for waiting to shove a knife in my uterus and trying to calculate how much Advil I can binge on before destroying my liver.

But the scenes in the video of blood on the seat and sheets reminded me of another mistake.

Mistake 175- I was with a large group of friends in a bar. Met this really cute guy as soon as I arrived. While still sober, I thought he was too hot for me. But somewhere along the night after we were both very drunk, we started making out. He was from out of town and staying with a friend. His friend saw us kissing and told us we could have the apartment to ourselves. He was gonna go stay with a friend. He just told us not to use his bed.

We took a taxi to the apartment.  We were making out and it was annoying the taxi driver who was trying to get directions. We called the friend who owned the apartment and somehow between the drivers accent and our drunk mumblings and rumblings, got to the apartment.

We pulled out the futon, or it was already out and ready? All I remember from the sex is one of us kicked a lamp and broke it. The next morning, he woke me up to ask me why was there blood on the sheets. I was mortified. Oh shit! I didn’t think it was that time of the month. I ran into the bathroom to check and clean up. But no…no vaginal blood. No menstruation. I cleaned up and got dressed. I came out and told him that I did not start my period so I have no idea where that blood came from. We exchanged numbers and I left.

On the subway ride home, I looked down and noticed that down my knee and leg there was a huge cut. It was ugly and covered in dried blood. I texted the lamp breaker guy “did I fall last night?” He responded he thinks I fell on the sidewalk leaving the bar. I told him I must have scratched up my leg then and that was were the blood came from. We were so trashed we did not realize I was injured.

But a bleeding leg was a lot less embarrassing than a bleeding coochie.