Stupid Me

Stupid me.

I drank too much beer last night. I knew I should have had more self-restraint. I am often powerless over good beer. Self-restraint goes out the door. Once that hops kicks in, I am in a mental paradise.

I hadn’t drank for 34 days. I was committed to not drinking for a long time. But I made the mistake of going to a good brewery with my wife parents. My will power collapsed just as I stood infront of the taps. I told myself I could have one beer. I told myself to sip the first beer but drank it fast. The beer was equally as good as the best orgasm.

And then I forgot that when the beer is being bought by someone else I don’t want to stop.

One pint. Two pints. Three pints. I was having a great time. I was making plans to hang out with my wife’s father in the future. We made plans to go on a family camping trip. I know not to ever make plans when drinking. Alcohol causes a person to feel a fake enthuisasm that is almost always regrettable. I was happy and enjoying socializing with people, which is something that does not normally happen for me.

I don’t like socializing. I don’t normally like people. I hate making plans.

Four pints and all my anxiety was gone. I was feeling good in body and mind and my wife suggested we go out some more. I hadn’t been out late since the last time I drank beer. It was Saturday night so I said ok.

Normally my medicine is weed. Weed is a substance that makes me a better and healthier person. It medicates my anxiety, depression, anger, modd disorder, general lassitude and PTSD symptoms. When on weed I am a stable, productive, easy and pleasurable person.

When not on weed my normal state is miserable. I had chosen to just use weed medicinally and not interact with beer or any kind of booze anymore. But last night I gave up.

Before I knew it I was hanging out at a stranger’s house in the middle of nowhere. He was a very nice stranger who owns his own concrete business and lives in a house like the 43-year-old bachelor that he is. His hair is long and his eyes friendly. he resembles “the dude” Lebowski. I enjoyed talking with him as he offered me more beer. And weed. And more beer.

This stranger was the bachelor-boyfriend (he lives alone and is allowed to be with other women) of one of my wife’s girlfriends (my wife has several girlfriends and boyfriends she has sex with at times). It was his birthday and her girlfriend wanted us to come over and celebrate his birthday with them. Normally I don’t hang out with people. Unless I am drinking beer. Then I am everyone’s friend. When we arrived I was feeling  great and we were so far out in the middle of nowhere that the silence was loud.

We were in outlaw country. The kind of place with trains, deserted cars, trucks parked in driveways and lots of land. The kind of place where people live to get away from people. The stranger was very welcoming of me and my wife into his home. There was cocaine on the table. The stranger and his girlfriend where already drunk.

We drank more beer. Two, three, four more beers. I can’t recall. I was completly out of control and enjoying the freeing feeling. Before I knew it my shirt was off and my wife’s girlfriend was rubbing her hands through my chest hair and telling me how much she loved a real man. She asked me if she could take some of my chest hairs as a souvenir. I told her she could and felt no pain. She told me she would give me oral sex as return payment.

With beer, time escapes consciousness. There is no time after a certain amount of beer. Consciousness is so constricted by the beer that nothing matters at all. I suddenly found myself in the back of an Uber. It was my first time in an Uber. My wife was in the front seat and I was wedged in-between the drunk and quiet stranger and his girlfriend who kept rubbing her palm over my chest hair. She talked my ear off about her struggles with anxiety and her bachelor-boyfriend. I tried to help her out by telling her she should meditate.

The evening is a blur after this. I ended up in a dark club in the middle of nowhere. It cost each couple over a hundred bucks to get in. There was carpet on the walls and green lights everywhere. Terrible music. There were naked people, drunk naked people and naked people having sex. There was the stranger’s girlfriend naked and insisting that I have sex with her and there was the stranger having sex with my wife. There were rapturous sounds and deviant smells. I was not really there.

And then it was 5am and I was grateful to have made it home. I don’t do these sorts of things you must understand. I keep my penis out of strangers mouths but at one point I found myself pressed up against a wall with my penis sticking through a small hole. The feeling of several strange mouths on it felt good and I tried to hug that wall like it was my salvation. Of course this morning I feel like a fool. I wasnt thinking. That is what was fun about it. Thinking always blocks out fun.

I keep reminding myself that last night was good and fun. No need to feel the oppressive guilt and shame that usually shows up at this point.

I woke up at 10am this morning and hobbled my way to the local cafe. I felt disgusted with myself for having no power over beer. Beer is the devil’s drug. It makes things happen that could never occur if I was just using weed. Weed is such a peaceful and contemplative drug. Beer fucks all that up.

It is now 3pm and my wife is still in bed sick with a hangover. Both of us powerless over beer. She seems to have gotten the worse end of it. She too abstained from booze for over a month and is currently being reminded of why she did.

It is my hope to never drink beer again. Not because I don’t love it. I love it too much. It is dangerous to love anything that much and if one does love something that much they need to take necessary steps to protect themselves against it.

I should have never gone into that brewery.

Stupid me.

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