Tall (drunken) tales from a Yalie who knows

I have a problem. And if you are a wild and crazy Yalie like me, you probably have it, too. In fact, I know you do, because I see all of you do it all the time. You’ve even done it to me. Let me give you an example:

At the Stiles/Morse screw a couple of years ago, I was outside smoking a cigarette. A girl in a pretty spaghetti strap dress was propped up against a wall in the courtyard. I felt sad for her. She was in a bad way. Suddenly, the girl, who was clearly drunk, threw up on herself.

I ran to go help her. I’m that kind of guy.

Just as I arrived, the girl’s friends did, too. They asked her what happened. She looked up at them, then down at herself, and then wailed “Somebody just came and threw up on me!”

They all turned on me while I stood beside them.

That’s right, assholes. Our problem is that we lie when we are drunk.

Think about it.

How many times have you ever heard yourself saying, “Of course I’m not drunk!”

Usually by the time you’re saying this, your date is already yelling at you for throwing up on her shoes. Usually, that’s okay, because you’ve forgotten her name by then anyway. Her friend is much cuter.

Or what about, “No, your breath doesn’t still smell like tequila!”

“Sorry, I don’t have any change! But you stay warm, ya hear?”

“This is what all Michigan driver’s licenses look like!”

Or, my all-time favorite, “No, I did not just go throw up in the bathroom, brush my teeth with your roommate’s toothbrush, and come back to hook up!”

If I had to count the times I’ve said those things on all my hands, I’d run out of hands pretty quickly.

It’s true. When you’re drunk, lying comes easier than a pre-frosh at SAE.

A good example of this lying-while-drunk phenomenon happened to me recently. I had left a party where I drank more than I intended. And, as usually happens, I ended up in someone else’s room. Before we started, my victim mentioned that we couldn’t tell anyone that we were going to hook up. “I won’t tell anybody,” I said, executing drunken lie #1.

Hello Yale Daily News Magazine.

In the middle of the action, I realized I had to get sick. So I employed drunken lie #2: “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, “I’ll be right back.”

Instead of going to the bathroom, I walked home.

To make this lie believable, I left my sneakers, shirt and wallet behind. A very clever move. This was in a house a few buildings down from me on Edgewood. So walking the approximately nine steps down the street, wearing very little clothing in the biting cold, I assumed that I had it made.

Then my recent ex-boyfriend showed up. Anyway, he appeared down the sidewalk very near to me. Employing my masterful cleverness, I attempted to hide from him. Being six feet away, he noticed my move.

“Oh my God!” he cried, “What happened to you?”

I looked down at my nearly naked body.

You guessed it, time for drunken lie #4.

“Someone stole my clothes!” I cried, gasping at my own cleverness.

He gasped too. I think we both may have gasped twice, out of awkwardness.

I don’t know, because I had to be retold all of this after the fact, but I imagine I had to stall for time to think of another clever drunken lie. I couldn’t, so I hurried into my house to throw up.

All in all, I was in a wonderful situation Saturday morning, but that’s for another time. As you can see, this lying-while-I-was-drunk situation ruined my relationships with both my ex and my neighbor.

Other examples include every Harvard-Yale party ever. You know sophomore year you totally told your high school friends “Yeah, I knew Claire Danes, but she totally jacked Yale because all of the people here couldn’t handle her.” On the flip side, you know you’ve heard this about a thousand times from Cantabs: “Yeah, Natalie and I are friends. I almost have her number in my cell phone.”

Many people find alcohol to be a truth serum. But my theory is that we are just screwed up enough to have it work the opposite way. But everyone always believes you when you’re drunk. It’s absurd. You know what? It was me that spilled the beer on you. You don’t look fabulous. It doesn’t “happen to every guy sometimes.”

And naked parties? You think we want to see you naked? You’re even lying to yourself here.

So the secret’s out. That guy probably has figured out that you aren’t on the women’s soccer team, and that bouncer at Playwright only let you in because you were cute. Everyone knows when you say “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” that you’re really going to boot, boot, boot. People will find out that you were lying, trust me. And honestly, it’s embarrassing. Let’s cut the crap okay?

And we should totally get together soon. I’ll call you.

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