Having a Ball Breaking the Chain

Contributing to the delinquency.

I bought my son a beer for the first time this evening. The occasion was perfect for it, family and a couple of his friends out to dinner to celebrate his 21st birthday. Yes, 21st. And he's not even my oldest. I also have a 23 year old son, but he has chosen not to drink, so tonight was a first. My daughter is 17, and other than a stolen sip from my wine glass a few years back, so far she hasn't had any interest in the demon rum... or gin or tequila or anything else alcoholic.

The 21 year old claims to have inherited my fondness for tequila, although it must be a guess on his part. I'm certain, since he only became "legal" today, that he's never actually TRIED it. When he took my well-used blender to his place a week or so ago, it was to most likely to make fruit smoothies. Oddly, a large bottle of Jose Cuervo disappeared at the same time. I'm sure it's just a coincidence.

I began my relationship with the bottle a little younger than any of my offspring. When I was 17, my boyfriend was 23, so there was no hanging around the liquor store trying to find an "adult" to score me some booze. Boyfriend was ever handy. In an era when simply breathing in at any party or concert was enough to render you unable to perform simple tasks, I was one of the very few who, to borrow a phrase, never inhaled. Other than a life-long desire to protect my brain cells (which, for some odd reason, did NOT interfere with my romance with the aforementioned Jose) I simply didn't enjoy the effects of the killer weed.

I can't remember how many times I went to concerts at the Sports Arena and, by the time the headline band took the stage, I was so tired and sleepy I would be curled up in a chair dozing while everyone else rocked on. The fact that, back then, the joke-based-on-reality was that the smoke was so thick in the arena it would obliterate the No Smoking signs may have been a contributing factor.

So, I turned to other means of altering my consciousness. I truly have never enjoyed getting drunk, but that's not to say that I didn't enjoy drinking. During my early 20's, my routine was, work from 8 to 5, go for a run, go home, feed my dog and take a shower, go out about 8 and stay out til 2:30 or 3. Rinse, lather, repeat. Usually Tuesday through Saturday I would keep up this schedule, hanging out at several local bars and joining the traveling party of my friends and co-workers who met and re-met place to place throughout the evening. I didn't become an alcoholic, I didn't rack up any DUI's, I didn't lose my home, my possessions or my mind. I had a damned good time.

That's the way I remember being single. If I tried to keep up that kind of life, now, I would be dead within a week. It might take 2 or 3 morticians and a plastic surgeon to wipe the smile off my face, but I would be dead nonetheless. So being single this time is going to be a whole new game. If anyone know the rules, kindly forward them to me ASAP. I have plans to make.

posted by Sheryl @ 10:29 PM