At the age of 20, a college sophomore, I already had a penchant for drinking like a longshoreman on vacation in Tijuana. My sorority even gave me the "Blondes Have More Fun" Award, which was just another way of saying I drank the most Everclear Punch at the college parties I so frequently attended.
When Tom and I started dating later that year, I don't think he knew what he was in for. Most of the time I was fine - a normal upstanding girlfriend. But on occasion (i.e. usually after my fourth alcoholic beverage) I developed a second personality - one Tom not-so-lovingly referred to as "Lucifress". Lucifress, to put it mildly, was not pleasant. As the night grew, and I downed seabreeze after seebreeze, my bleach blond hair would become more wild, I would compulsively apply multiple coats of red lipstick and Lucifress would emerge. I could go from being someone's best friend to their worst enemy in one swift second.
It was on one memorable night that Tom discovered just how nasty Lucifress could become. At the time, Tom was a full-time student, with a full-time bartending job at a local resort. That weekend he had worked a Friday night, Saturday day shift and the Saturday night shift. I met up with him and a couple that we often hung out with that night during his shift. Already three sheets to the wind, I obnoxiously ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon and loudly drank it with our friends. Tom begrudgingly asked the couple to take me to their apartment, so he could come pick me up after his shift (as clearly I was in no condition to drive). Being the responsible 20-year-olds that they were, they took me back to their place where they proceeded to pour me a highball of Jack Daniels. Nice friends.
Tom picked me up around 2 a.m. By that time I was literally a fire-breathing monster. As he helped me to the car, I began to berate him for spoiling the fun. Obviously he had my best interest in mind, but I was like an angry Courtney Love in my baby doll dress, with my red lipstick, a tumbler of Jack in one hand and a cigarette (I didn't even smoke) in the other. As we drove home, Lucifress began to show her true colors. First by putting the cigarette out in between my legs, smack in the center of the passenger seat - leaving a lovely dime-sized burn whole in the upholstery of Tom's new car. When Tom objected to my "rock and roll" gesture, I grabbed his tip money (approx. $400 in cash from his triple-shift over the last two days) and threw it out the window. At the time, we were traveling at about 45 miles an hour in a construction zone and the money flew like confetti in every direction. I let out an evil cackle as Tom pulled over and tried to find his money (he was able to find only about $60).
The next morning I awoke with a blinding headache and full of guilt. What little I remembered was not good. I knew that Lucifress had gone too far this time. Tom forgave me but decided it might be time to 'take a break' for a week or so, while I contemplated my actions. We eventually got back together (because Tom is a saint with the patience of Job) and, although Lucifress occasionally made a guest appearance on some of our future dates, she was never quite as evil as she had been on that fateful night.
Lucifress, I am happy to say, is no longer with me. On the rare occasions where I have a glass of wine (or two) the worst thing that happens is I end up buying an expensive pair of jeans on line and then fall asleep in front of bad television. R.I.P Lucifress.
Note: The above picture is NOT me, but I found it online and it is a pretty good representation of what I might have looked like at the time (just mentally add some red lipstick).