I woke up embarrassed, guilty and reminiscent of the hangover I had following my first legal binge. It was a celebration of disasterous proportions. I worked tirelessly, finishing only 15 minutes before the deadline to hand in two projects that would determine the completetion of the semester.


I was frazzeled when I walked in the bar to meet my Uni friends, they were more studious and finished the hour before, well on their way to celebrating the end of class until October. I unzipped my backpack, pulled out a cider, and drank on the sly. I came prepared for a picnic celebration, preparations that included cider, beer, and a blanket mixed in with my school work. Despite being at a beer selling establishment, I drank through my preparations before purchasing the first round of many shots. 8 of us drank, gossiped and planned summer holidays before our finance teacher arrived to join the party.

Our prof and I have an interesting dynamic, as he does with all of the Americans, he mostly thinks I don't apply myself and I mostly think it's weird to have my teacher as a Facebook friend. But to each his own, so Prof, addmittedly a lightweight, joined in the party.

Before long, boyfriends and fuck buddies of the women in our class took a seat at the table and the party was moved to an Equadorian restaturant, we added wine the consumption list and Beni remained the only sober one.  I could tell he was slightly nervous about where the night would take us....but we kept on anyway and decided it was time for dancing.

We hopped on the 43 bus to Angel and drunkenly handed over 3 quid to the bouncer to get into a pub/club. The music was an early 90s nightmare but we danced through it. The girls coo'ed over the loveliness of my boyfriend, a fact I knew and couldn't help but be proud of. As he danced, the gals and I headed to the bar for the 3rd round of Jaegar bombs. Prof and Jose excused themselves, Jose had ladies to meet and I don't think Prof was up for anymore Shenangians. I should've excused myself too, but I was beyond the point of good reason and I barely noticed the glare from Beni's direction.
He is not a fan of my and Jose's relationship. Protective, Jealous, Albanian men don't take kindly to another man dominating conversation with their girlfriend or calling her 'babe'. I sat with him in our booth, litered with school bags and tried to reason with him. I think I did a pretty good job until, two girls decided our booth was for their taking. One politely asked if she could sit, I agreed.  I guess my approval meant her and her friend could throw our bags on the floor.  When I asked that they not throw our bags on the floor (we had laptops in there mind you...) I heard 15 minutes of unkind words about me and my friends.  15 minutes was about all it took for me to ask, not politely, for them to get up.  Next thing I know, words where exchanged and I was excusing myself to leave.  I had embarassed myself and most likely everyone else and it was time to call it a night.
 
On the cab ride home, Beni questioned me about my relationship with male friends....the suspicious tone in his voice was enough to set me over the edge one more time.  The fight that began in the cab spilled on to the streets of East London for another 2 hours.  With little patience left, Beni scooped me up like a kicking and screaming child, threw me over his shoulder and told me he had enough.....
 
I was that girl.....I need a serious re-evaluation.....and far fewer Jaeger bombs....