The Time I Killed Valentine's Day

The BF and I used to have a great Valentine's Day tradition. We would take a day trip to Sonoma and hit up a bunch of wineries, do wine tastings, and buy a case or two of wine. We would bring the wine home and drink it throughout the year. Every bottle of wine we cracked was a special occasion and a reminder of our fun tradition. We'd save one of the higher end bottles until the following V-day and then go back up to Sonoma to repeat.

In 2006 that tradition came to a brutal and fiery end.

Last year, on our wonderful annual wine tour, I got totally and completely shitfaced. There really is no other way to say it. I. Was. Shitfaced. I had no lunch and far too much wine. A terrible combination. I ended up blacking out and saying horrible things to the BF. Horrible and awful things. Words that I'm not sure I could forgive had they been said to me. It was just awful. So awful that, one year later, I am still mortified by my behavior. Even though I don't need to be, I am still apologetic.

The worst is that someone I very deeply love got hurt because I was drunk. A day that was supposed to be about love and appreciation turned into something dark and ugly. I never, ever want to repeat that experience. I doubt there would be any second chances.

I feel as though I've carried these feelings of guilt and utter sadness around for an entire year. I know that airing this in a public forum won't change what happened, but some shred of me does feel better for putting it out there.

BF, If you are reading this, I am still so very, very sorry.