The curse of the “I never get a hangover” friend

We’ve all been there, woke up from a serious night out with a feeling like your stomach contents are going to be projectile vomited around your dingy student room. That’s not to mention the splitting headache, dry mouth and the impending sense of doom that you made a complete tit out of yourself last night.

What happened last night? This. This happened.

When you have finally gathered yourself up to become what can only be described as a mere shadow of the person you were last night when you were giving it stacks to Jason Derulo, you can head downstairs to see the rest of your housemates also in a similar state.

Seeing your friends dying of a hangover whilst you’re feeling shit will undoubtedly make you feel better, and you can all gather round and bond over splitting headaches, dodgy tummies and cravings for a McDonalds – except one. There is always one. One housemate is always “fine”.

This. This is something every hungover person needs.

Whilst you attempt to drink more water than is in the Pacific and struggle to class and to find them STILL insisting they feel “great” (even when they don’t look it, they look like a hungover pile of shit like you too).

My friend really portrays how a hangover makes me feel so well

The night before is discussed and whilst you cringe at the drivel you spoke to some lad at the bar, or the horrendous moment you fell on the dance floor your “fine” housemate will always find opportune moments to use these phrases:

1. “I’m surprised I feel so good when I had just the same amount to drink as everyone else.”
2. “I don’t even feel like I was out.”
3. “I’m just really intolerant to alcohol I guess”

To all of this I can simply say it’s lies – total bullshit – and I beg that it ends. I saw how drunk you were, there is no way you are a medical marvel and have escaped the excruciating pain that so many of us suffer.

It’s not cool to think you’re exempt from the devastating morning after, and everyone knows it’s an act. Why not just own up to the fact that you feel as close to boking as the rest of us.

And when I vow, in vain for the millionth time, as I usually do, to never drink again – so help me God if I hear you utter anything about how “lucky” you are to have never felt the need to do this, because some day I’ll snap and it will not be “fine”.

Swear I’m not drinking again. Until tonight.