You gotta love Double D's. I know I do. I'm a big fan of them. In fact, they are my favorite. But this weekend, I was the DD, a.k.a The Designated Driver. I did the job with pride and dignity. But I will tell you this, it was the first and the last time.
Since I am who I am, friends expect me to be in the mood to drink, constantly. Sometimes when I really didn't want to. But this weekend, they wanted me drink up, and I was more than willing to participate. But I couldn't. By my own mistake, and lack of planning, I ended up driving 4 of us home.
It was a fun night. Out at a theme bar with a huge group of friends for a friends 40th. I love to get people drunk. There aren't many things funnier than dunk people (as long as they are happy drunks). I will buy you shots until you puke, or pass out. I make a great wing man. I helped all the husbands get "some" if you know what I mean. So overall, it was a good time.
On a night like this, a DD is a must. But it just isn't my thing, unless it is my car, which I love! Nobody gets to drive my car. The theme of the bar wasn't something that I would have ever chosen. After a few beers I might have found it tolerable. After 6 or 7, I might have even enjoyed myself. But after 3 plus hours or horrible songs screeched out by tone deaf high school band geeks who never "made it" and a group of inebriated women screaming in my ears, I wanted to vomit. In fact, I feel like I have a headache and I didn't drink.
Don't get me wrong. The DD is a vital part of a night out with alcohol. No matter what, driving even a little buzzed is something I will never do.
So to all my friends (who will never read this), I say "you suck" and "your welcome".