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Tom: Beer Throwing and The Duality of Man

Tom reflects on his Tyler Durden moment, beer throwing and wonders if it was catharsis or if he's just a "d bag."

Whoops I did it again. I'm not that innocent. I'll begin by issuing an apology to my love and expressing my disappointment in my actions. There is the part of me that knows this act is morally reprehensible. No real man throws a beer on the woman he loves, right?

I pride myself on being cool calm and collected. A libra. Balanced. Full of levity and perspective. However there is another part of me, a part that feels little remorse for this. He was drowning in a sea of pettiness and bickering that was washing away any chances of having fun in a land he's never visited. He is, my Tyler Durden. I was experiencing a real life Mean Girls scenario and was utterly shocked and disgusted of the behavior around me.

Katie, as much as I love her, has a dark side that was slowly taking hold that night. This side of her rarely rears its head, but when it does, it's usually when we are highly intoxicated and starts over something as insignificant as nothing. I was being chastised and getting dirty looks because I handed Scheana a shot. A simple gesture of acceptance to say, "Hey let's set aside any melodrama and get lost in the moment." "Let's indulge in this celebration of life in this new land." I was defending more than Scheana per se. Maybe they had a reason to be upset with her, but I was defending reason. Defending what is right. Having perspective to squash any petty beef, given we are on a fantastic voyage in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, with a bar tab.

There were multiple failed attempts to placate Katie. I tried apologizing, but it was already too late. Katie demands unconditional loyalty and I had betrayed her. She would. Not. Let. It. Go.

I wasn't born with the proper equipment to deal with pettiness of this magnitude. Eventually she followed me outside into the street, she tried to grab my beer hastily out of my hand. The implication being that I was too drunk. In a reflex, knee jerk reaction, all of that B.S. culminated -- and I threw my beer on her. I saw red and that signature sound effect that's cues rage in Kill Bill went off in my head. I reached my breaking point. Every man has his limit. I knew in that instant, reason and logic had left me as well. Now everything I had to say was moot. The beer over the head is the trump card. Now I was the monster and I knew it. I'm always the calm, logical one but maybe even for a second, it felt kind of good. A little catharsis. I have never done anything like this in my life aside from with Stassi and Katie. I don't condone it and in retrospect it is quite regrettable. I'd also like to add that, having a beer poured over your head is actually quite refreshing. I've actually self administered several through out my college days.

Update: Maybe I was just a drunken a--hole who lost control and should stay off the high horse, a drunken d-bag, or a man who reached his limit.

Love you Bubba

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