visionlinethepoet
New Lister
It began as a joke. I was with friends out there, still in college. That was the first time when a friend invited us for a birthday party. We all went since we were exercising the thrill of our new found freedom from parental scrutiny.
We got to the party well. The music blaring from the speakers could render someone some partial deafness. However, being young and free, we did not mind. The party was on and we began to dance to the tune of the music. There were girls too. Lots of them. My friends teasing me, told me to approach one of the girls who was sitting on a coach, pushing her ass a little too much to be noticeable.
I went to the girl when the teasing became taunting. They were calling me a “priest” I did go. She warmed to me instantly but had a strange request. “If you want to enjoy my company, there is one thing you must do.” Said she, “And what could that be?” I asked, inching closer, “Well, you help me down this drink.” She was holding a plastic, clear tumpler. It had some liquid that looked like a chocolate drink or coffee.
Mastering some courage, I took it in on swing. The cold bitter drink went down my throat leaving a warmth on its wake until it settled in the bottom of my stomach. Then she laughed and pulled me to the middle of the room and we began to dance. It was one act that brought me to this trouble. It was an innocent drink that introduced me to the world of alcoholism.
After that night, I would occasionally go out with friends, the initial shame I had for bars and shyness left me. I would enter them sit on the large tall stools and buy a drink. It began with the keg, then I graduated to spirits. Those small tots in clear breakable bottles.
Here, I am now, I am a lover of the bottle, my wife left with the kids, when I got laid off at work. The defaulting of rent has sent me parking. I live with a friend who is threatening to send me away from his house due to my unkempt nature.
Guys kindly help! Help before I lose it completely.
We got to the party well. The music blaring from the speakers could render someone some partial deafness. However, being young and free, we did not mind. The party was on and we began to dance to the tune of the music. There were girls too. Lots of them. My friends teasing me, told me to approach one of the girls who was sitting on a coach, pushing her ass a little too much to be noticeable.
I went to the girl when the teasing became taunting. They were calling me a “priest” I did go. She warmed to me instantly but had a strange request. “If you want to enjoy my company, there is one thing you must do.” Said she, “And what could that be?” I asked, inching closer, “Well, you help me down this drink.” She was holding a plastic, clear tumpler. It had some liquid that looked like a chocolate drink or coffee.
Mastering some courage, I took it in on swing. The cold bitter drink went down my throat leaving a warmth on its wake until it settled in the bottom of my stomach. Then she laughed and pulled me to the middle of the room and we began to dance. It was one act that brought me to this trouble. It was an innocent drink that introduced me to the world of alcoholism.
After that night, I would occasionally go out with friends, the initial shame I had for bars and shyness left me. I would enter them sit on the large tall stools and buy a drink. It began with the keg, then I graduated to spirits. Those small tots in clear breakable bottles.
Here, I am now, I am a lover of the bottle, my wife left with the kids, when I got laid off at work. The defaulting of rent has sent me parking. I live with a friend who is threatening to send me away from his house due to my unkempt nature.
Guys kindly help! Help before I lose it completely.
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