The Various Stages of “The Fear”

We've all been there. You think it’s safe to venture out. Few pints with the lads, couple of shots with the girls. All in the name of fun right? Sure tis only a bit of craic. And how could having the craic possibly have bad repercussions? What’s the worst that can happen, you ask? THE FEAR.



Picture the scene. You wake from your slumber after spending hours in your dreams dancing through daffodil donned fields, hand in hand with Georgia Salpa. At first nothing seems unusual until about 10 seconds in when the hangover hits. You remember the night before. Well…you remember bits and pieces and suddenly the realisation hits you that there’s something warm in the bed beside you. Something moving and breathing and holy shit…something that smells rancid. You turn to your side and see last night’s victim. A younger, slightly heavier version of Bette Midler is drooling onto the Superman pillow case that Mammy bought you for your birthday. And so it begins…The Fear




You can hide in bed and lie to yourself and pretend that you never left the house the night before but your stomach and your head will continue to remind you of every last sip of alcohol you consumed the night before.



You know shit went down last night, but you’re not exactly sure what it was. Your whole body is turning red with shame every ten minutes but your mind has yet to recall any horrifyingly awkward moments.




Slowly, the night before is coming back to you in bits and pieces that you can’t arrange into any definitive timeline. You see faces of the people you talked to, but can’t remember a single word you said. You see yourself downing shots but you don’t know who bought them. God knows it wasn’t you because you’re broke.




Suddenly, between the flashbacks of you getting hopped on the dancefloor and challenging the bouncer in Mc’Donalds to the chicken nugget challenge, it all comes flooding back to you. The reason you’ve been mortified all day. The reason you can’t face the world ever again, the reason your life is over…



For ‘fear’ you weren't mortified enough, you get a notification from Facebook. It’s that annoying girl from school who you never liked anyway that carries her camera around on a night out like a fifth limb. “______ has added 3 photos of you.”

Suddenly, the whole ordeal has just gone viral




Now that the whole world knows what you did last night, you've vowed never to leave your house again. You convince your parents to let you drop out of college and start a home business.




This earns you the ‘respect’ lecture from your parents. You have no respect for yourself or your body. “All that shit you’re putting in your body is going to catch up with you when your my age” the father announces, while Mammy stands at the oven telling you that “Michael from down the road wouldn't let himself get into that kind of "lubawn” No, he wouldn't no.



Your friends make contact and ye confirm that you’re all alive before the Joey of the group suggests The Cure. At first the thought of drink threatens to result in a vomit comet, but you decide that getting slagged by the lads beats getting love advice from Mammy.




The Cure doesn't go as smoothly as you’d hoped when the person you’re most trying to avoid arrives into the pub for the very same reasons as yourself. PUT THE HEAD DOWN.


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Becky Fogarty
Article written by
I am a New Media & English student studying at the University of Limerick. I present my own radio show on ULFM and write a popular personal blog on wordpress: I also Vine and am very active on Twitter.

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