David Attenborough Presents: A Drunken Thirty-Something Female Coming Home Alone (Again)
Here we have a thirty-something female returning home from the rare, wild night out. A birthday party is the likely culprit. Her attire, high waisted jeans and a crop top, suggests that she is likely still single, which could be the reason she is in fact so intoxicated.
Once paired up, thirty-somethings tend not to dress so vibrantly or get quite so inebriated, deeming it less necessary once they’ve attracted a mate.
She climbs out of the Uber, carefully, and makes her way up the stairs. Now for the tricky part; finding the right key to enter her dwelling. A couple attempts, and she’s in.
After removing her stilettos, it’s straight to the kitchen. She needs water, desperately. But she cannot keep it down and makes a beeline for the restroom. Nonetheless, if there’s one thing that can be said for drunk thirty-somethings, it’s that they know when and where to vomit.
You won’t see them retching on a dance floor or in an Uber. That is a move displayed predominantly by twenty-somethings before they’ve reached maturity. She’s even found a hair tie in time, pulling her hair safely out of the way of the vomit. It’s not her first rodeo.
She is ejecting excess alcohol from her system, a biological response which will shield her from symptoms of alcohol poisoning, or in lesser cases, simply feeling like hot garbage in the morning.
And she’s back on her feet; brushing her teeth, washing her face, even applying night cream! She is absolutely smashed yet still has the wherewithal to put on anti-wrinkle cream. This shows just how crucial it is for the survival of women in their thirties to not look old. Her brain is functioning at a much lower cognitive level than normal yet it still knows that she cannot afford to appear wrinkled, as it will drive away potential mates.
Now asleep, we see her tossing and turning through the night. Thirty-somethings aren’t as adept at processing alcohol, and consuming it in excess can result in disrupted sleep patterns and multiple trips to the bathroom for urinating, vomiting, or both, if she’s really unlucky.
She’s back up. Merely half an hour has passed and she is reaching for the hair-tie, signaling the need to expel more alcohol from her system.
Even in this sleepy state, the thirty-something woman can locate her toilet in the darkness. Using a primitive form of echolocation, she bumps into walls until the toilet is located by the echo of her voice shouting “Damnit!” It’s a method unique to the drunk human.
It appears she’s moved the bath mat over to the toilet to offer some cushion for her kneecaps while she vomits. Again, remarkable survival skills specific to females of mating age. They cannot afford to be seen with bruises on their knees or inappropriate assumptions could be drawn which may render them unsuitable as a mate.
She has finished vomiting again and is up on her feet. The stumble back to the bed is typically a bit easier as the eyes have adjusted to the darkness, despite the drunk thirty-something’s lack of night vision.
She’s back in bed. She’ll need her rest. Let’s hope she stays put until the morning, when the real battle begins.
As dawn awakens the city of Los Angeles, our drunken thirty-something has metamorphosed overnight into a different animal: the hungover thirty-something. Close encounters with hungover thirty-somethings can be dangerous, and the state can last for days. Often, madness and anger accompany the physical feelings of unwell, making them exceptionally threatening.
This one does not appear to be an early riser, as the sun has now been up for hours, and still, she seeks respite under the coverage of her duvet.
She begins to stir; the eyes open and — oh, they’ve closed again quite quickly. The hand comes to the forehead, a classic sign of discomfort in the frontal cortex, or a headache.
She is really struggling, as intimated by her curling up into the fetal position, a classic sign of defeat exhibited by the thirty-something in this hungover state.
Her other arm extends, reaching out for her water glass, but it appears to have been knocked over by her cat in the middle of the night and is now empty. If she wants water, she’s going to have to get up and walk to the watering hole, more commonly known around here as the Brita.
This is one of the most challenging moves for a hungover thirty-something — standing up. Let’s see if she’s up to the task. She’s weaving a bit… Aaaand success. She’s on her feet, headed straight for the coffee maker. Looks like she might survive this day after all.
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