"A single glass of white wine would kick it off, and the more I drank, the messier my texts would get. I started the night with a vague idea of who would be on the receiving end: men I was sleeping with, men I wanted to sleep with, men who had once said "cute dress" in passing. Before going to bed, though, I always cleaned house. I deleted every thread like a digital crime scene."
"Things got more complicated about eight years ago, back when Twitter was Twitter and also good. I'm a comedian, so I threw myself into building a presence. Because I was drunk, that meant I was also drunk-tweeting. Even though I was terrified of getting canceled, I couldn't stop, so I added a new step to my bedtime routine. Before going to sleep, I deleted every post from that day. Every single one. Unless it was going viral, obviously."
"After three years of this, I quit drinking. Not to brag, but I learned I did not need alcohol to send messages I regretted. I continued to post, text, and DM with fervor. My phone was a pit of dread - a record of all my mistakes, misses, cringe encounters, and rejections - and I couldn't find an escape from the doom."
I was a prolific drunk-texter. A single glass of white wine started messy messages to current or potential lovers. I deleted threads nightly, treating them like a digital crime scene, reasoning that unread messages did not exist. The behavior expanded when I built a presence on Twitter as a comedian, adding daily deletion of posts unless they went viral. After three years of drunk-tweeting, I quit drinking but continued impulsive posting. My phone became a pit of dread, preserving mistakes, misses, cringe encounters, and rejections. In 2019, I began pitching a TV show reluctantly to monetize existing work.
Read at Bustle
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