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The Lonely Soldier


There comes a time towards the end of the night when we all face complete danger and vulnerability to his evil works. We must guard against his will and beware of his attack at all costs. He almost always decides to make an appearance from the hours of 3-6 AM while our wits are weakened by alcohol and our minds defenseless to fight. Most victims fear the embarrassment and social torment he may cause. And most don’t realize they’ve been hit until morning when its too late. We all become him. His name is “The Lonely Soldier”; the grim reaper of all drunk dials and texts. And he’ll make you wish you weren’t born….for at least 48 hours.

You’re out, you are having fun, and all is good in the world. The cameras are flashing, the music is to your liking and the atmosphere has all the makings of a great time. Just another day in the single life, “yeeeeeeeaaaaa.” You have reached the mountaintop! This is it! You are Dr. Stephen J. Ironcock (the Destroyer) and you will not be stopped! You’ve been grinding on the dance floor with most of the top 10 heavyweight contender chicks in the room…and even got a couple of looks from the elite 3 who are in the hall of fame. In your warped mind your face is up on Mt. Rushmore next to the presidents and you are gripping basketballs on the cover of Sports Illustrated; highly touted as the next big time player! At the height of this little Roman Empire your buddies are happy to just be a part of the action, just like the guys who passed the ball to Michael Jordan in the ’90s or splashed water on Mike Tyson in between rounds in the ’80s, all wearing jumpsuits that read “TEAM YOU”. And why shouldn’t they? You’re the one spending all the money! But something awful happens…3am sneaks up on you like a midget in a cornfield…and the fall from grace is hard.

All men realize that there needs to be some sort of adjustment period at about 3am. All the dances have been danced, the songs have been sung and the high fives have been handed out like free sandwiches…along with your rent money. The establishment stays open til about 5am but nobody wants to be the last animal standing in this glittery zoo of South Beach. Besides, only fatties and fights go the distance on nights like these. When you close out your tab at the bar the total reads…”F*CK YOU MAN”…and gratuity was not included!

You turn back to your area and all your buddies have grabbed a girl as if the were blocking for Devin Hester…leaving your ass going 90 yards to the house…literally! So now defeated, drunk and confused you get behind the wheel. (hmm cab)

Enter the Lonely Soldier.

The lonely soldier drunk dials can easily be divided into three types…the Reasonable, Unreasonable and the Random Haymaker. Let’s go over them shall we…as we have all done these before.

The Reasonable is prevalent to the veterans of the game. Those of us who may have been single for a while and usually have a reliable stable of female soldiers who are fighting this mutual war. Great to have during times like these where warfare can get tricky. For all of you less 007 out there this could also be the girl you’ve had a “thing” for the last couple of weeks yet refused to promote her to full time girlfriend. Seeing as she has not made the 2008 starting lineup she is regulated to the late night practice squad until she is traded.

The Unreasonable calls are most notably to the ex-girlfriends who are totally over you in every shape, form or fashion. Most of the time they are in bed with a current boyfriend who is angrily woken up by your pathetic calls… this could result in a future good kick in the ass so be careful.

Hands down the saddest portion of the unreasonable is when you become the Patron Saint of fat girls and uglies. The “Knight in Shining Armor” if you will…of the unfortunate ones who never get picked in the school yard. You are making their day and making your grave because it will be a front page, primetime, ABC Morning News, facebook affair by dawn. The Character assasination will be brutal…especially from your boys.

And as if all this wasn’t bad enough…here come the Random Haymakers. In boxing terms by definition a “haymaker” is a wild punch desperately thrown usually by a boxer who is losing in a final attempt at knocking the opponent out. In our terms its when you call someone you have absolutely no shot at. A girl you probably had to ask your buddy to give you her number. This will guarantee your position as the creepiest dude on Earth. You don’t wanna be this guy! Not only will you ruin your chances with this particular girl, but you will no doubt be the subject of disgrace amongst her group of friends…the ripple effect is vast! You may have to lay low for a while and find a safe house. Get a girlfriend quick and take a sharp turn to Mellow-Town until the statute of limitations expires. Then you may be welcomed back to society a rehabilitated man.

I leave you will some of my own personal favorites.

1.Where are you? 3:34am

2.What are you up to? 4:04am

3. Pick up the phonnnneeee! 4:36am

4. hey. 5:00am

5. I’m outside…open up. (everybody’s favorite)

April 12th, 2008 | share



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