An alcoholic is someone you don’t like who drinks as much as you do.
Can you remember your first drink? I can remember mine. I was 14, it was a bottle of Ks cider, and I was stood behind a Gloucestershire village hall in the dark, the Prodigy’s Out of Space drifting through the open windows. My friend Fran looked older (not 18 but she had big tits) and she’d managed to get served in the local off licence. I don’t think I even got pissed but I pretended I was. Being pissed was cool.
That night was the start of a binge drinking career that now spans 19 years. As a teenager, most weekends I would buy booze with my mates and get rat-arsed. We started with cider, then moved onto Thunderbird. Thunderbird, for those who’ve never tasted its syrupy rankness, is fortified wine – bona-fide tramp juice. We used to hold our noses for the first few swigs just to get it down. By age 16 i’d ramped up another gear and was drinking spirits – mostly Bacardi and Vodka, but sometimes Whisky. What the hell kind of teenager drinks Whisky?
I have engaged in very risky behaviour when drunk – quite how I made it out of my teens and early twenties alive is a miracle. I even once got picked up by the police in downtown Manhattan for falling asleep on the street at 3am (yes that’s right, i’m high class). As I have gotten older, my drunk behaviour is less excessive. Now my modus operandi seems to be that in between molesting random men, I sit around talking complete bollocks to anyone that will listen for as long as they can tolerate me. I have turned into a boring drunk. I’m even more boring than the old wino who props up the bar in your local. You know, the one who can talk for hours about his imaginary days in the SAS.
So I think at the ripe old age of 33, now I have a renewed interest in health and fitness (I shall blog about this next), it’s about time I gave up getting pissed altogether. I guess i’ve got steaming drunk maybe 15 times this year, so not horrendously bad, but nonetheless I’m fed up of the hangovers. I’m also far too old to be wandering around town at 3am barefoot, drunk, trying to balance my stilettos on my head. So i’ll say it now and i’ll say it in writing as that means i’m serious: i’m giving up getting pissed. Never again will I wander into a dingey bar at 5pm and emerge 14 hours later, the daylight burning holes in my retinas.
Maybe you’ll wish me luck? I’m British. Binge drinking is part of my culture. At the minute, I can’t imagine how a teetotaler lives their life in this country. I hope it’s not as shit as my mind says it’s going to be.
Hic.
Suzy x
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