I drink more than the average Jane. Possibly even more than the average Joe at times. I also am a loud flirtatious boundary-pushing gal. If I want to have fun, I find and/or create it.
Sometimes this means the world around me becomes one big fun laughable venue for celebration. Other times I have landed myself, and the situation, in a grand amount of trouble.
Sometimes an incident happens that causes me to stop and review – is this just who I am & I must accept it. Or are there glaring signs in the post-mortem of OTT situations saying I should, if not need to, change myself.
I have taken a degree of heed, and over the years I have cut down & controlled myself a fair deal, especially since those irresponsible Varsity days. Ask my Fidel friend, she has had to watch the transition to a calmer, more motionless Champs. And I think she says a quiet Thank You every night before bed.
But an element still exists in me that reigns in chaos.
And I am in love with this element and its results.
I have tried cold turkey Good Behaviour approaches. And then fallen off the wagon of Sober Rationality before it could even strike midnight. I kept sensing I was denying who I am. And it is such a gorgeous feeling when I go back to just letting myself be.
A result of all of this starts as some guys having admiration, but who eventually gain bitterness. I have listened to men tell me that they love that I am so carefree & wild. My crazy spirit is what attracted them. When I hear these statements I look at the man with weary eyes. I have turned to one or two of them and said, give it one week or one month & you will hate me for it. No no, Never! they doth protest, and try to snuggle in closer to a drunken me.
And a few weeks later they state on the drive home that they think I drink too much. Maybe I should go home at a reasonable hour. How could I just talk to that random stranger like that, or worse! then get into the stranger’s car & head to the next party. ….But this is who you met me as! This is how you met me! I met you through the exact same circumstances & you did not turn out to be a psycho killer. And you did not seem to mind in the slightest back then!
I see hypocrisy gusting through their words. And I see their newfound distaste of me glaring down their noses. Or, when we first met, did they rather see my “madness” as a “Chick That Needs Saving”. A Fixer-Upper. And so they hoped to capture me & put themselves to work on my being. But now they are being made to admit that I am one who refuses to be quelled, restrained, and have alterations done to me.
And so things end. And not on the first sweet happy note.
A recent incident prompted this rehash of thoughts and reviewing. “I drink. Sometimes too much. I do stupid things all the time. Some people accept and love this and me. Others leave it/ me”.
What I did not add, but I think is implied: This is the way I am & I ain’t changing for you. No matter who “you” are.
It hurts to type that. It looks so sad. Maybe even pathetic. Or perhaps strong? I can see what the easy solution-littered route will be, and I am turning from it, not having the first clue why.
But I have to stop & wonder – should I? We all joke about my drinking abilities & skill at landing badlam in my lap. But is it this that is hampering my abilities to be in a healthy relationship? Damn “healthy” actually. A relationship at all?
Will I always be the “fun” mate, up for everything, but stability & predictability? And if so, how much does this matter to me? What does this mean for me in the future?
Will I be the drunkard slag at the bar in twenty years, alone? Or the dutiful housewife, waiting for her hubby, while feeling so lonely? Or will I have blazed a trail? … leaving in my wake chaos, destruction, lessons learnt, and some great memories.
Perhaps rather, as I have been known to sms people like my Fidel after too big a weekend, maybe I should become a Fundamentalist Muslim. Then my husband would beat me if I drank.