Wisconsin Voices For Recovery Newsletter

It’s 6 pm and I’ve just finished cashing up. I worked the day shift today and since it is the beginning of the season I have made some nice money today.  The barman is hot so I am having a few after-work drinks so I can chat with him.  I’m chatting and drinking and having a grand old time.  

Before I know it the place is just about empty and the bar is closing. Geez, that went in the blink of an eye, so off a wobble off home.  I’m driving back to work at 9 am feeling rotten as can be from all the alcohol last night.  As soon as I see the barman, Bob, I have a flashback of stairs and falling.  So my logical thinking tells me that he must’ve pushed me down the stairs.  

So I ask him why the hell he pushed me… and the response is that when he left work he found me there at the bottom of the subway, lying in the gutter.  

The first thing that comes to my mind is how many people must have stepped over my body and recognized me.  He would have locked up and been the last one through the subway.  Damn, not good at all. So I do what I do best and laugh it off.  

A couple of days pass, with me flirting with him until he asks me out to supper.  Off we go to a pub restaurant that has a lovely balcony. I tell myself not to drink too much, I  don’t want to embarrass myself (again).  

I open my mouth to say something to him and I vomit on his shoes.  

Honestly, I am confused. I didn’t see this one coming at all.  

Usually, I can feel I am drunk and I can feel a hurling session coming on for a while. This time the vomit just jumped out of my mouth.  He doesn’t look at all amused while I am trying to wipe it off with a tissue.  On the bright side, it was probably the most ladylike vomit I have ever had.  

After supper, we go for a walk on the beach. Things get rather fuzzy here because one moment we are walking down the beach and the next thing I am being shaken awake.  He tells me he is tired of sitting on the beach while I nap, he wants to go home now, please.  Oh dear, I can’t explain that one. The cocktails must’ve been stronger than I thought.  

As Luck Would Have It

Some time passes and I wonder if my chances with him are completely shot or not. I flirt with him on a few occasions and eventually, I half invite myself and half get invited to an evening out. 

We are going to a club tonight and I am quite chuffed because women drink free there on  Wednesdays. As luck would have it, today is a Wednesday. Yes, there is an entrance fee but  I will easily be able to drink my money’s worth.  Plus, Bob appears to be quite a gentleman and might even pay for me which will be a big bonus.  I meet Bob at his place and we drive to the club in his car.  Luck is with me and he pays my entrance fee.  

As soon as the drinks start flowing I am off having fun. I am as a social butterfly, wobbling all over the place, talking (slurring) to everyone I meet.  

What feels like 20 minutes after we got there, but in reality turns out to be 4 hours, Bob wants to go home.  I’m not keen to go yet, not while I am still standing and there is still free alcohol.  He tells me we are leaving and that’s that.  The stairs to the outside are steep so I tell myself to go carefully. I am holding his hand,  walking slightly ahead of him.  

I step out… into nothingness. I have missed the first step and I am now hurtling down headfirst. Bob manages to hold onto me to at least halfway down and then he lets go and I roly-poly to the bottom.  

I get up and I am surprised I don’t feel a thing. No injuries at all. So I dust off my knees and have a good laugh.  Bob lets me sleep in his bed and being the gentleman he is, he sleeps on the couch. 

In the morning over coffee, he tells me has to talk to me. He explains that he is not much of a  drinker and well obviously I am, so he is not sure that it would work between us.  I think back over our few romantic encounters and realize that he probably is a little bit too boring for me to date. 

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