I’ve been a
late-bloomer most of my life.
I remember having to have a girl in kindergarten tie my shoes because I
could not, for whatever reason, do it myself. I didn’t start piano lessons until I was 15, I didn’t
get my driver license until a few months after I turned 16 and didn’t really
start driving by myself until several months after that.
So, I don’t suppose
it should be any surprise that I didn’t begin drinking until I was in my
mid-thirties. Yes, you read
that correctly. I was 35
when I first started drinking.
I think throughout the entire decade of my 20s I may have had 5 drinks
total. However, there was
this one night, when I was 35, about 20 years after my age group, that I took
my first trip down what was dubbed “The Inebriation Highway”.
It happened in
September 2008, when I was invited to a new friend’s house one Saturday evening
to watch a football game with friends. And, I, well, enjoyed the taste of Boone’s Farm Fuzzy
Navel. Sure, I was 20 years
behind the times, but I was turning over a new leaf. I was recently single after a 5 year relationship, and was
starting to explore new areas of life. Alcohol was new. I remember very well, I was sitting on my friend’s
sofa, staring off into the distance as I was asked, “Are you ok?” “Yes!” I
replied. I drank most of the
bottle by myself. After a little
sobering up, I drove home and we had a memory to laugh about.
Still, that event
almost five years ago didn’t turn me into a drinker. In fact, I’m still very much a social drinker. Until a couple of years ago, I
was still a little awkward even knowing what to order at the bar. I dated a bar owner for several
months, and he gave me a few pointers. I was drinking June Bugs for a while until I discovered
my current drink of choice, Sex on The Beach. My problem, however, is that I am still pretty much a
light weight when I drink. I
can be tipsy on about drink two and a half, and pretty much gone at four. While I have been drunk a few
times, I haven’t ever been so drunk that I was falling over myself puking up my
guts. When I’ve been over-served I
have two extremes…there’s the far-off stare and the touchy-feely, giggly
guy. I’m not sure which one
is worse, but I’m sure they both have their entertainment values.
Here’s my
confession: Growing up, I was
afraid to drink because I had seen my mother drunk on a couple of occasions,
and I was afraid (and to some extent still am) of losing that much control of
myself. Then, after I became
involved in church, I thought it was wrong to drink (hey, remember, I was a
good Baptist). But, once I reached
35 and began discovering myself, I learned that, as Gladys, an elderly caller
on the daytime talk show Ellen says “I
love Jesus, but drink a little.”
I still have a lot to learn.
I know very little about wine, although I have had some that I really
like. I can’t stand the smell of
beer and therefore, can’t get it past my nose to drink it. So, I stick with the
fruity Sex on the Beach.
I’ve been assured that
my 40th birthday will find me on the inebriation highway once again,
but don’t worry—designated drivers have already been selected. In addition to Sex on the Beach,
I’m kind of fond of the fireball shot and the pineapple upside down cake
shot. So, a little less than
five years into my drinking experience, I’m still a little wet behind the ears,
but I’m enjoying the experience.
I don’t drink alone, and always make sure my friends are with me to make
sure I’m being safe.
I’m hoping my 40s
will find me blossoming into someone who knows more about my drinks than I do
now. I’ll be honest, if you
told me ten years ago that I’d be hanging out in a gay bar on some Saturday
nights I would have looked at you like you were crazy. But now, it’s fun to just go with
the flow every now and again.
Cheers!
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