I used to drink. A lot. A whole lot. I don't anymore. I often wonder why I drank so much. Living with an alcoholic father, seeing what it did to my mother and the rest of us, why? Why would I do it? Why do all my siblings do it? Is it genetic or are we so stupid that we have to repeat the same mistakes over and over? I don't have the answer for that. I just know that I've made some really bad choices and I own them. I can't blame anyone else.
In my heyday of drunken debauchery, I drove far too many times, had insane hangovers, went to work still drunk from the night before, had some of the best of times and the worst of times. In particular, this was probably around 1986 maybe early 1987. I guess it says something that I don't remember exactly when it was. It was a typical Wednesday night at the Nine of Clubs in Cleveland. Wednesday was the night to party at the Nine. My best friend since we were 6 years old brought along her on again/off again douchebag boyfriend R and he brought his friend K who I'd never met before. But douchebags of a feather, flock together. R treated my BFF like crap quite often and I hated him. He is one of the 2 people in my life that I have closed fist punched in the face. He deserved it, trust me. As soon as we got to the Nine I took off looking for other people to hang with. I would have happily stayed with BFF, but R and K? Not so much.
My drink of choice back then was Seven and Seven and before long I found a bunch of people I knew and was drinking and dancing the night away. The Nine played great music ("Go!" by Tones on Tail still gives me Nine of Clubs flashbacks) and poured a stiff drink. By my count, I had 7 Seven and Seven's that night. It could have been less, could have been more. But 7 Seven and Sevens is how I always remember it. I hung out with friends, I danced, flirted and got a date (this was BH... before husband). And yeah, I was really lit up. Some time later, BFF came looking for me and said that R and K wanted to leave. So we left. I basically passed out in the back seat. My awareness was little, but I was aware enough to know that they dropped BFF off first.
R and K took me to The Town Pump, a local dive bar, after dropping BFF off. I was already so fucking toasted, but I continued to drink. I'm fuzzy on how long we were there, how many more drinks I had or something as trivial as time. But I do remember drinking more, and I do remember standing on a bar stool (very likely with the guys help) and declaring to everyone in the bar that I had the best tits in Cleveland. Yeah, drinking made me really stupid. And right about now, my choices ended.
If I look back on it, which I rarely do, I would probably say that R and K were satisfied with my state of intoxication and felt it was a good time to make our exit, which is what we did. They helped me walk to the car and got me in the back seat. R drove and K got in the back with me. I am now in and out of consciousness. I am aware of little bits and pieces of things.. my jeans being taken off, K on top of me, my arms trying to push him off me, blank... stopping the car, blank, R on top of me, blank, crying, alone in the car with the two guys outside discussing something, blank, being dragged to my door and thrown inside, blank, crawling upstairs to my room (I still lived with my parents at the time), phoning BFF, crying, blank, blank and more blank.
I woke up many hours later, with the phone in my hand, with the queen mother of all hangovers and the tell tale signs of what had happened. There was no denying it, no talking myself out of it... no fucking way... did this really happen? It did. I called BFF and asked her what I said on the phone the night before and she refused to tell me. I am pretty sure I told her everything that had happened that I could recall and she was not going to tell me what I said. It just wasn't going to happen. I'm not really sure of her reasoning, but that was her choice and I have to think she was protecting me in some way. All these years later, she's still my best friend and I still don't know what I said to her that night.
But I do know that on again/off again relationship BFF had with R became off permanently and that I never ever drank another Seven and Seven. Sadly, I did not stop drinking because of this. I probably drank more because of this. How and why did I stop? Interestingly enough, it was another night at the Nine, several years later. We got there and bellied up to the bar and I just turned and walked away without ordering and that was that. 1990 maybe, is what I'm thinking. It just ended. No big fanfare, no AA, no discussion about it of any kind. I just walked away from the bar that night and rarely ever drank again. I just felt done.