An old friend of mine used to always joke around about how I was his favorite alcoholic. Sometimes it was funny. Other times, it would ring too close to home.
I’m pretty sure I’ve had more hangovers in my late teens and twenties than most people should have in a lifetime. But the painful mornings, the splitting headaches, the incessant nausea, the shakes…they never stopped me from going back to what has often felt like my greatest companion. Booze was just always there. Always available. Never questioning my motives.
I started drinking a little when I was maybe 15 years old. By 16, I was sneaking miscellaneous ounces of booze from my father’s various bottles. He was a light drinker, only on Christmas, New Years, and maybe his birthday, but his work buddies would always get him a new bottle so he had a decent collection going. I’d sneak a little from each bottle and pour it into a plastic water bottle with either orange juice or soda. Never mind that scotch, rum, tequila, vodka, gin and Sunny Delight didn’t belong together. I wasn’t in it for the taste back then. I was in it to relax in the back of the classroom, sipping away to feel cool somehow. It got me some attention, but it also got me into trouble. Like the time I got piss drunk by lunch time and started yelling at my friend “G” for leading me on while he still had a girlfriend. And how my other friend intervened and told me to call home so I wouldn’t get into any more trouble. Or the time I overdid it on the party punch at a birthday getty only to have my mother find me and take me home and wash all the puke I later spewed onto my bed. And yet she forgave me.
But that was only the beginning.
Booze and I, we’ve had some good times. Some great times. If it weren’t for booze, I would’ve never had the courage to do a lot of things. Namely talk to strangers and go on “adventures”, which may or may not have wound up in someone’s bed. It probably sounds worse than it is.
I wouldn’t say I’m a full-fledged addict. I’ve quit twice in the past two years, both times due to pregnancy. After my first pregnancy though, drinking hasn’t been as fun. I tried to drink a little, but now my body seems to reject it for the most part. It makes me feel ill fairly quick. And it also brings out my temper. That’s been going on for years, though. Like the time I went to that guy Eddie’s party. It’s one of those epic nights that will forever live in infamy. Where I saw all sorts of things happen, and participated in others, and wound up vomiting for hours on a front lawn in front of everyone, only to have my friend (the one that’s called me an alcoholic) take me home despite my protests to continue partying. He’s always been a good friend. Even when I fucked him over on his birthday due to another drunk situation. Yeah, maybe I am an alcoholic.
But these days, I’m pregnant, and I’m not the kind of person who would risk her child’s safety for the sake of a buzz. I couldn’t give less of a shit about booze right now. I suppose time and again I miss having a nice, frosty beer with lunch. Or some post-work cocktails. Or a nice glass of Merlot to go with a pasta dinner. And yes, I get a little sad having to refuse the cheap wine samples at the grocery store. But I know it’s for a good cause.
I believe I must have been some form of addict for the past decade, but my body has been through so much that I don’t think I’ll ever be capable of being much more than a “light weight” ever again. And that’s perfectly fine, because no one wants a total lush for a mom or a wife or a friend after a while. I’ll still enjoy my craft brews and maybe I’ll even take a sommelier course sometime for the hell of it. I just don’t feel the need to drink my face off anymore. I’ll just write about it instead.
Daily Prompt: Can’t Get Enough http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/10/09/daily-prompt-addicting/