Everyone is familiar with beer goggles (if not personally, at least conceptually).  Something about alcohol lowers our standards, our expectations, and sometimes our pants.  There is plenty of analysis on beer goggles out there (not to mention an Android app and Gmail setting to prevent booty calls/texts/emails).

It is time to bring to light an equally distressing result of alcohol’s side effects.  No, not liver cancer.  I’m talking about drunken friend-making.

Some people are mean drunks.  Some are sad drunks.  Some of us, however, are happy drunks.  While my drunkenness is rare, I do fall squarely into the happy drunk mold.  I love everyone.  I think everyone I meet is the most awesome person to walk the planet (I kind of feel like this sober too, but I digress).  I want to be best friends with everyone.

The next morning I have 7 new phone numbers in my cell phone but only a faint recollection of who they belong to (it’s even more difficult to distinguish them from each other).  I realize I’ve promised to help people move, find them jobs, start businesses together, and possibly serve as their lookout for some sort of investigation or surveillance or stalking of a past significant other.  While I avoid making promises in my regular, non-bar-based life, I am full of promises with a bit of vodka in my system.  The next morning, my regrets aren’t about a man in my bed so much as a to-do list.

Granted, I have actually made great friends on nights out drinking.  I have met wonderful people, had enlightening conversations, and most importantly, lived life in the moment.  The only problem is when living life in the moment leaves me indebted for the foreseeable future.

I’m sure I won’t be able to avoid making new friends and new promises when I’m wearing my goggles.  It’s considerably less likely to leave me with an incurable disease.  I’m sure that some of these drunken friends are just as glad as I am that we haven’t followed up on our promise to start a non-profit and save the world.

Still, please consider this post my disclaimer from any promises I make with a glass in my hand. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to help someone move.