A Mystery
I don’t drink. Reason number one: I don’t enjoy the taste. Reason number two: I dislike feeling fuzzy brained. Reason number three: there are too many alcoholics on both sides of my family.
My first wife’s uncle’s mission in life was to get me to drink. Why? I don’t know.
One Saturday evening at a wedding reception he continued to harass me. In part because I didn’t feel like I was getting support from my wife, I finally said “OK, bring me something but don’t mix anything in it.” I don’t like the taste and the few mixed drinks I had tasted were worse than straight alcohol. He brought a glass – a large glass - of straight whiskey. I drank it. He brought another. I drank it. When I began to feel the effects I asked a brother-in-law to drive me home. I got up, walked out to the car, had the sense to know it was about to come up before I got into the car, took care of that little problem, got into the car, went home and went to bed. On Sunday morning about six AM I went to a restaurant in town and had breakfast. I ate it and ordered a second breakfast and went on with my life. End of story!
Never again did this uncle offer me a drink. Why? I don't know; perhaps, because I didn't make an ass of myself and it wasn't any fun for him.
People are a mystery to me.
My first wife’s uncle’s mission in life was to get me to drink. Why? I don’t know.
One Saturday evening at a wedding reception he continued to harass me. In part because I didn’t feel like I was getting support from my wife, I finally said “OK, bring me something but don’t mix anything in it.” I don’t like the taste and the few mixed drinks I had tasted were worse than straight alcohol. He brought a glass – a large glass - of straight whiskey. I drank it. He brought another. I drank it. When I began to feel the effects I asked a brother-in-law to drive me home. I got up, walked out to the car, had the sense to know it was about to come up before I got into the car, took care of that little problem, got into the car, went home and went to bed. On Sunday morning about six AM I went to a restaurant in town and had breakfast. I ate it and ordered a second breakfast and went on with my life. End of story!
Never again did this uncle offer me a drink. Why? I don't know; perhaps, because I didn't make an ass of myself and it wasn't any fun for him.
People are a mystery to me.
posted by Paul at 8:25 AM
6 Comments:
"People are a mystery to me." Ever get tired of trying to figure them out? That's where I am right now. If you find someone that actually knows how to act with some sense and be a friend; proceed with caution; they've probably got their own agenda that will be revealed after you've opened up to them. Pessimistic--yep--I hope it's part of my healing process. If not; oh well...
'people are a mystery'
Yes I see that more and more!
I'm beginning to see this mystery as part of the fun of the ride...
You represented a challenge to him because you wouldn't drink. You've met the challenge now. He'll leave you alone, I think.
You should try wine. It's a bit of an acquired taste, perhaps. But some wines can be quite good.
Or not. As you wish.
The main reason I never drank is that our religion forbids it, but I also watched people drink around me, and then try to drive - that convinced me to never touch the stuff. I was only about 13 when I saw my best friend's parents argue and drive while drinking, and it was frightening. They were so cruel to one another. I was glad my religion forbid it.
I don't drink either :) And guess what! When I was reading about that man who wanted to make you drink, I thought of some of my buddies, whose "objective" is to make me get drunked :S LOL I mean, come on, I love me too much to attack it with alcohol, or drugs or whatever. I've drunk alcohol sometimes, and as you said, I don't like the taste either. Cause the alcohol makes a sweet drink become weird, and I really prefer to drink a sweet juice, or a soda, rather than an alcoholic drink, which apart from making you drunk and damaging your body, is less tasty :S
Well you did exactly right, Paul. You told him very clearly, and tactfully, that what he was trying to do was stupid.
It's time for general confession here: My Dad hated liquor with a passion. I started drinking after several months in the Merchant Marine, did a lot of it.
On day the purser, the worst wino I had ever seen, came into the saloon (that's what we called the officers' mess) and said, "Sparks, you're a nice kid, but you're sure gettig to be a wino." I thought OMG, look who's talking.
But I got off that ship and did a bit better in the following years.
One day Dad and I were on Canal St. (N.O.) when a drunk sailor staggered down the street. He expressed great depreciation. It hurt me.
When I "got the call", I felt strongly that the best thing I could do for the Lord was to habituate the bars. But I was chicken and fled into the seminary.
Eventually I spent 10 years tying to help alcoholic probationers stay sober.
Well thanks for letting me go on like those; I hope you don't mind.
Now I drink a beer (maybe) when the boys come home. But I get nothing out of it. Like you I don't like the taste. Wine doesn't help my stomach at all; it hurts it.
I do wish no one would drink; I believe it would help the poor devils who are trapped to get free.
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