How i Was Spent My Summer Vacation: Days 14 & 15

Day 14

Day 14

The only exceptional day today was that i spread out my 6 glasses between noon and 10pm. Almost like a real, normal person.

Drink Log

  • 4 Bud Lights
  • 2 glasses of ‘Red’ wine

Day 15

Day 15

i fished this morning with Ol’ Grand-dad (blog slang for my dad). Yes, fished. i’m allergic to exercise, it makes me breathe hard, sweat and my heart beat faster. If i were drinking something and i had that reaction, you’d tell me to stop immediately, right? So it is with exercise, or ‘exer’ as it should be called because it’s a four letter word. The only sports i like are the ones you can drink during: bowling, darts, pétanque (don’t ask), croquet, and fishing.

So anyway, there i was fishing with my Ol’ Grand-dad and he asked me where i was with alcohol. My drinking isn’t a secret from anybody, so it was kinda normal he’d ask. i told him that i was keeping it under control, that i was worried about it but the fact i was worried meant i was on top of it. He said he was happy about  that. He reminded me that Sea Gram’s (more blog slang, this time for my mom–you know, Ol’ Grand-dad and Sea Gram) father was a heavy drinker and that his own father was ‘a skid row bum’. He can never really say that without getting choked up.

After this, we went to the only store within 15 minutes of Camp David (Hasselhoff) and he bought me a six pack of Blue Labes (Labatts Blue). (It cost $13–hell, when you’re the only store in the middle of nowhere you get to name your price.)

After four of those i invented, with Sea Gram’s help, a Pour Man’s Amaretto Sour.

(Click on the picture for the recipe)

(Click on the picture for the recipe)

Drink Log

  • 4 Labatts Blue
  • 2 Pour Man’s Amaretto Sour
  • 2 ‘Dry White’ wines

2 thoughts on “How i Was Spent My Summer Vacation: Days 14 & 15

  1. “So anyway, there i was fishing with my Ol’ Grand-dad and he asked me where i was with alcohol. My drinking isn’t a secret from anybody, so it was kinda normal he’d ask. i told him that i was keeping it under control, that i was worried about it but the fact i was worried meant i was on top of it. He said he was happy about that.”

    Yeah. I won’t lie, we all should be worried. Where you are at is not good. There is such a fine balance of loving you, with loving you, and not wanting to lose that love from you, not wanting you to be angry thinking that people are “harping” at you or judging you by drawing attention to your drinking.

    I arrived 16 months ago today to live with you, for 16 months you and I have been learning a lot about one another, and I have been learning a lot about your relationship with alcohol as well as my own with it, too. It’s not been an easy 16 months in regards to the alcohol. This past weekend is yet another testimony to that. I’d love to just be able to ignore it all, I’d love to sit back and just go with the flow of your drinking. But I can’t.

    I am glad your dad expressed concern. I’m glad your sister expressed concern. I’m glad I told your dad that the biggest reason I don’t drink anymore is not only because my tolerance for it with my physical problems is now nil, but also because someone I know wrote me and said that if you have someone in your life to whom you are close and wish that person drank less or did not drink at all, then you have to be willing to be dry, too. I am, first for myself, and second for *us*.

    I hope that by typing this stuff that you will not jump to the conclusion that I am judging you. That seems to be the place you like to go in your head when people try to talk to you about this all. “He’s judging me, she’s judging me…”

    I dunno, if you really saw me doing something to hurt myself and it was really hurting the other people in my life, too, would you think you were judging me? Or, is it just observing experiences and trying to figure out how you feel about what they are doing, about NOT the person, but his or her actions.

    I don’t think you would think you were judging me if you were observing something I was doing and trying to figure out how it makes you feel. It’s confusing and sad that you will probably think that I am judging you, though, by writing this all.

    I don’t think it is judging, though. I think it is just telling you how I feel.

    It hurts me when you drink too much because you say and do hurtful things when you are drunk.

    When you are drunk I feel scared because I am never sure who I am going to be dealing with; meaning: I am never sure what personality is going to come out when you do. Will it be the guy who wants to pay attention to every other woman but me (after all, I am not new or interesting anymore to that drunk guy. I’m the one that wants to prevent him from going out and having a good time… The “Wife”, the “Mother,” the “Millstone”)? Will it be the one who wants to get angry and pick a fight? Will it be the guy who can’t even walk straight and does stuff like fall down and bang into and break things? Will it be the guy who is so incoherent and so drunk I wonder if he is maybe going to stop breathing or something else medically catastrophic? (That’s about where you were on Friday night. I get scared when you are that drunk that I am going to have to figure out how to call for an ambulance in a different language and how the hell would I negotiate that all?)

    When you are drunk, you lose your sense of responsibility and control of yourself. When you did not come home or call on Friday (and HELL if I was going to call you after you have told me all about the “smothering” ex-wife and ex-girlfriends who have gotten mad at you for staying out to get drunk, leaving them home alone. HELL if I was going to fucking be placed in that horrible category), I was worried, but I figured “Fuck it. Let him pay the price, let him flirt with who he wants to, drink as much as he wants to, and damn the consequences, let him do what he wants for I am not going to be called the ‘Smothering Girlfriend’.”

    I hope you had fun. I did, for the most part, by myself. Yeah, there was a part of it that sucked, being in a movie theater by myself, in a whole ‘nother country where I don’t speak the language. It was lonely. I felt really alone. I wanted company of a human being with me. But hey. You can’t always get what you want, and at least a person can try to eke out a little bit of what she needs on her own if no one in her life can help her out with that.

    But, it gets old. Naw, you’re right, it does not happen often. The only reason it did this time was because the girl child at the last minute was not going to come over Friday night. I knew as soon as you called me at 4:30 pm what was going to go down.

    It was sad.

    I kept thinking about how a lot of other couples with no kids on the weekend could have spent the time having sex, which is, I might as well be honest about that here, too, something that for damn sure is not going to happen when you are drunk. You’ve been drunk more times in the past month than we have had intimate contact. Some girls might be willing to put up with this kind of situation, some girls might be okay with once a month, but I dunno. Twelve times a year when even once a week would be 52 times a year is starting to feel like kind of a gyp. I wish that your drunkenness would not steal this from us, too.

    I am so pained almost constantly because I know I don’t want to live without you. But living with this is hard, too.

    Oh and yeah, you made a comment to me, too, about how when we were on this summer vacation I wrote about how difficult it was to connect with you. You said something like, “You don’t like the sober me nor the drunk me, so what’s there to like?” Well, when I wrote that, it was on THIS vacation. You drank almost every single day. No, you were not always drunk, but the focus was still THIS, drinking so you would have something to write about, something worth living for, something worth taking a bunch of photos. Even semi-sober, it was still all about the drinking, yanno?

    This is a bit edgy and bitter. Yeah-Man today is a cloudy, rainy day, and I am contemplative about this and everything else in life. Autumn does this to me every year, too.

    If this comment is too honest for what you want to have present here on this blog, then go ahead and delete. It won’t be the first time that you have done that to me, so goo for it. I’ve copied it off into my own docs anyway, just so I have my own copy.

  2. I got to thinking about this part: “Some girls might be willing to put up with this kind of situation, some girls might be okay with once a month, but I dunno. Twelve times a year when even once a week would be 52 times a year is starting to feel like kind of a gyp. ”

    Actually, I think it was twice in the past month, so in all fairness I should get my math straight. That would equal out to 24 times a year at the current rate at which things have been going the past few months. I should also note, however, that this is not necessarily completely accurate. I used to note this kind of stuff and count the days inbetween. Lately, I have kind of given up on that because it just made me sad to note how often if was NOT happening. If I ignore it and don’t get into a whole lot of numeric accuracy, it eases off the sadness I feel.

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