A particularly unfortunate event occurred in the wee hours this past Sunday. Before you wrestle with all the “most likely to occur in the late night hours” scenarios, let me simply cut to the chase. I, Tristen, engaged in absurd drunk dialing this past weekend; a total regression from where I currently am in my life’s journey.

I woke up completely embarrassed, slightly ashamed, and still drunk. My relationship with my cell phone has been particularly uneasy over the years and drunk dialing is something I threw out the window a few years ago, so to be revisiting it in my post-graduate life is a little unsettling personally.

The little tequila induced episode brought about somewhat of an epiphany for me as the day (read: hangover) progressed. The shame disappeared and the embarrassment continued to lurk around as I found myself incapable of contacting my victim to explain – “it was the tequila!” – or any other laundry list of excuses that my colorful mind could conjure up. Even as I write this now, I can’t help but cringe at the thought of my actions.

While I’m not the only person in the world who thinks receiving late night phone calls from your friends are hilarious, there are, in case you were unaware, an assembly of people whose opinions tend to lean far into the opposite direction.

While floating in all too familiar post-drunk dialing self-repudiation I willingly obliged when my girlfriend requested a companion for a brief shopping excursion to New Haven – partly because I was still a little tipsy when she asked, partly because I owed her big time, but mostly because she’s my bud.

My pal packed me a goody bag for the car ride that consisted of water, a nondescript ibuprofen, the latest edition of Glamour, and a pair of extra-large, extra-dark sunglasses – the perfect remedies for the state that I was in.

I read through the issue while fighting against the treacherous warriors who were seemingly engaged in a full-fledged battle royale in my stomach. I spent that car ride playing my best defense against the stomach creatures and luckily there were no issues in my friend’s new BMW.

There was a particular article that took my attention away from the war in my tummy – that of lessons which the author wished she had known about dating when she was 21. The advice was certainly pertinent given my current circumstances – single, 22, and fresh off harassing the object of my affection. I always tend to take counsel with a grain of salt, especially when it’s coming from a complete stranger who is getting paid-per-word but the author offered some sound advice given my situation – I have since misplaced that particular article so I’ll just continue on with the story.

My cousin had an ingenious idea that we should all go see, “Eat, Pray, Love” that night. Again, I submitted to another plan as I needn’t argue with the Missa.

Liz Gilbert’s life was all too familiar to my experiences. I took a similar journey not too long ago, albeit a shorter one and one which skipped over the “P” in the essential EPL acronym. Needless to say I felt a connection to her even though our stories are not complete replicas – a kindred spirit with an asterisk attached.

The movie left me with this unsettling emotion of complete and utter despondence given the state of my career and romantic life. I asked myself a number of questions about what I want out of my life, especially right now. This led to the epiphany I spoke about earlier which came to full bloom after my brief self-doubt.

What the movie eventually made me re-realize (if that even counts as a legitimate word) is that life is about taking chances – not sitting around waiting for change or accepting the status quo. Liz made a ballsy choice, a risk even, by picking up and leaving for a year to rediscover herself – personifying the question”Why take a leap when you can jump?”

In the greater scheme of things, my tequila fueled phone escapade will only go down as a blip on my life’s radar. I’m 22 years old and my training wheels on the bicycle that is life are only starting to loosen (read: I’m young and make silly mistakes). So I guess the overall message that I want to convey is that no, I don’t feel entirely remorseful for my actions, embarrassed? – totally. While I definitely said unintelligible, ridiculous things, at least I made the jump.