Blackouts and Breakdowns (19 page)

While these relationships all had their ridiculous circumstances, I did take something away from each and every one of them.
Whether it be the dangers of looking at porn on the internet while high on crystal meth or dating a married man in the Army, I have taken everything I have learned and tried to apply it to my everyday life. I thank all of my former beaus for everything they taught me.
But most of all, I would like to thank alcohol.
Without you, none of these stories would have ever been possible; with you, none of these stories would have ever been told.

ADVENTURES IN SOBRIETY

Imagine a summer filled with fabulous trips to the beach, weekend excursions to the mountains and a fabulous group of friends that hung on your every word.
Imagine having a successful doctor as a boyfriend and having the best sex of your life.
Imagine if you will, living in a world without any consequences and having the time of your life.
Now imagine, not remembering half of it.

By the summer of 2008, my drinking had taken on a life of its own.
I was constantly partying and carrying on, while ignoring the important aspects of my life.
I felt I had tried to make it work in D.C., where I was living at the time, but the two of us were simply not a fit.
I am a New Yorker after all, and as far as I am concerned, there is nowhere else to live. I had moved to D.C. on a whim and after less than a year, I was done. My real friends were in New York and I knew if I had just put forth a little more effort, I would be back where I belonged, living the life I had always imagined I would lead.
But the truth was, I had more than enough time and plenty of opportunities to have that life and ended up pissing it away either by making bad decisions or conducting inappropriate behavior wherever I went.
I had all but given up any dream of returning to New York.
I would talk about moving back, and take an occasional interview, but I was not putting forth the effort required to make a happy life for myself.
I was twenty-five years old, waiting tables and not doing much to become the respected adult that I thought I deserved to be.
My life had turned into a constant bar crawl, hopping from bar to bar, flirting with acquaintances and making false promises to myself, and everyone around me.
The only thing I began looking forward to was having that first drink, but one drink always led to many and in a short time it became clear to everyone around me that a problem was brewing, literally.

The final night of my nine-month bar crawl in D.C., and what I hope to be the final night I ever drank, was one of the most embarrassing nights of my life.
It was a Saturday in October and I was pulling a double at the cafe.
In the morning, we were serving brunch, but that night, we were hosting the Miss Adams Morgan Day Pageant.
The Miss Adams Morgan Day Pageant is a yearly event that brings drag queens from around the world to Washington D.C. to compete for the prize of Miss Adams Morgan.
I am not exactly sure what this entails (I think they win a years supply of hairspray and a Sham-Wow or something lame like that), but it is a pretty big deal for the area and everyone said it was to be the party of the year.
I was not happy to be working, as usual.
It really took away from my drinking schedule, which on nice days such as this one included drinking outside.
So instead of drinking outside and relaxing, I decided to drink on the job. This was not untypical of Saturday afternoons.
The cafe was pretty slow, so the staff would drink during the day and usually party at night.
I had to work that night, and knowing that should have been the first clue not to start drinking.
I began drinking early in the afternoon that fateful Saturday and didn’t stop until five o’clock the next morning.
As the night rolled on, I kept drinking, even though I had already blacked out.
I was serving tables in a dress (I figured I had to be in costume, since the drag queens were in town) and did not remember anything. I was handling money that wasn’t mine and serving people in platform heels.
The next day when I went back to apologize for my ridiculous behavior, as I had done so many times before, no one seemed to pay any mind to what had gone.
“Oh don’t worry about it Mark,” one of my co-workers said. “We’re used to it with you.”
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Is this what people really thought of me?
How was it possible for me to make a life for myself if I continued to behave like this?
I knew I had to stop drinking once and for all and knew I could not do it by myself.
This had gone on for too long and it was time for it to end. I looked up a place online that could help me and went there that day.
For the next thirty days, I struggled to find my true self and get rid of the alcohol in my system.

DAY ONE

It’s always funny to me that AA meetings are always liquor store adjacent.
It’s like when you are going to a gym that has a McDonald’s in the basement.
My new AA meeting was two doors down from a liquor store and I pondered what door to walk through.
I picked the AA meeting, knowing what I had to do and walked up the stairs. But after every step I took up, I took two steps back down.

“Do I really want to do this?”
I thought as I clutched the handrail.
“Think of all of the fun times I am going to miss.
Halloween is right around the corner, then Thanksgiving, Election Day, Christmas, my birthday, Kwanza, Boxing Day, New Years Eve, all perfect days to be drunk off my ass.
What about Mary’s party this weekend?
I couldn’t possibly go there and not drink.
That would be so rude of me.”
I had walked up and down the stairs about fifty-five times in twenty minutes. Anyone looking at me would have thought I was rehearsing for a Paula Abdul video.
I felt as if there was no way I was going be able to do this because not drinking seemed impossible to me. Everything in my life at that point seemed to revolve around drinking. More importantly, I had just found out that I could mix my two favorite things, iced tea and vodka together and felt duty bound
to spread the word about my latest creation!
I was going to miss all of the fun if I stopped now.
I didn’t realize at the time that the fun had actually stopped for me months ago.

I didn’t know what to do.
I sat on the bottom steps of the local AA meeting and thought about whether or not I really needed to go up the stairs. After about ten more minutes of fighting the demons in my head, I figured I would go upstairs and see what this program was all about. Maybe after hearing a little bit more about what was going on, I could decide whether or not I needed to be there.
Besides, I had already told anyone who would listen that I had joined AA (even though at that point I had not) so that it would seem as if I had gotten a handle on my problem. “Damn it!” I thought. I had to do this now or I would look like a complete asshole.
Maybe I told everyone I was joining AA so that I would
actually
do something. I determined it would be the best thing to do for now, and if I did not like it, I would just quit, like I had done so many times before.

I went up the stairs and before I entered the room there was one more step and a sign above it that read:
STEP ONE.
“Whatever,” I thought.
I was still hung-over from two days before. I figured I would just apply my blase attitude to this, as I had done with everything else in my life, and be done with it.
I took a seat next to a man would looked like he was homeless.
He was wearing a huge blue coat with a fur-lined hood.
He had to be one of the oldest human beings still around. I knew that a lot of Veterans were alcoholics.
Perhaps, he had fought in the war-between-the-states.

I sat and tried to focus on what everyone was saying.
I kept quiet, even when they asked if there was anyone new to the group.
I really didn’t want to be associated with any of these people so I didn’t say a word.
I was really just giving this program a “test drive” to see what it was all about. I didn’t need to make friends just yet. Just remain anonymous until it suited me to make my presence known.

The meeting continued on and I looked around the room.
There were people from every walk of life imaginable. Homemakers, lawyers, cab drivers, businessmen, government officials, black, white, gay, straight, male, female, all of these people were bonded by their common weakness – alcohol.
There was an older lady who was very well dressed - in driving gloves and all - who looked so glamorous, sitting next to a man who was missing a tooth.
She did not seem to mind that the man next to her had possibly just eaten out of a dumpster.
This woman looked like someone I would have liked to have partied with.
She looked like she was born with a rocks glass in her hand.

The meeting ended.
I had not really listened to anything that anyone had to say because I was fascinated by all of the people who were around me.
Instead of asking someone for help, or sticking around to learn more about the program, I bolted. I went home and decided to call my uncle, who had been in the program for over twenty years.

“Best thing I ever did,” my uncle said into the phone.

“Yes, but I am not sure I actually have a problem,” I said.

“Why did you go to an AA meeting if you do not think you have a problem?”

“Because I got really drunk the other night and didn’t want to look like a complete asshole, but did want to make it look like I was getting a hold of my life.”

“Why don’t you just get a hold of your life?”
That seemed like a really hard thing to do at this point.
I didn’t know if I was actually ready to get my shit together.
But talking about it, at least made it seem as if I did.
“Do you remember talking to me about this a few years ago?” my uncle asked.
He was referring to the time I called him after drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels and asked him who I needed to fuck to join AA.

“I think so,” I replied.

“No, you don’t, you were drunk.”
He knew I was lying.
“If you think you have a drinking problem, then you most likely do,” he continued.
“Normal people who drink every so often usually don’t think they have a drinking problem.
Do you ever blackout?”

I hesitated to answer.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.
Mark, why don’t you take this test online?
It takes five minutes and if you answer more than three of the questions with a ‘yes’ just call me back.”

My uncle gave me the website to check out and I looked over the questions, dreading what the outcome of this questionnaire would be.
I scrolled down to get to the body of the page and read:

Do you ever blackout?

This wasn’t a hard one, as I had blacked out three times the previous week. I answered “yes.”

Do you ever drink more than anyone around you?

Since at this point I had been drinking with hardcore drinkers all summer, I chose to answer this question “maybe.”
Due to my surroundings, I felt a “yes” would be misconstrued.

Do you ever crave a drink?

Damn it!
This wasn’t looking good. Two “yes” and one “maybe.”

Do you ever leave your house with the intent to get drunk?

Three “yes’’ and one “maybe.”

Do you ever lie about drinking?

There were fifteen questions left, but I was done with this test.
I turned away from the computer in shame and noticed that my uncle was calling my cell, so I picked it up.

“Did you take the test?” my uncle asked

“Yeah, I didn’t get very far though.
I got four “yes’’ and a maybe,” I said thinking that was something to be proud of.

“A ‘maybe’?” he asked. “Only you could take a yes or no test and come up with a maybe. How many questions did you get through?”

“Five,” I replied.

“Ok, it’s a twenty question quiz and if you answer more than three with a ‘yes’ they suggest that you seek help.”
Tests were never fun, but this one, in particular really blew.
“Do me a favor,” he continued, “Go back to the meetings and see if you can go without drinking for the next week.
If you have trouble, just give me a call.”

I hung up and felt a little better.
At least my uncle would be my friend if I stopped drinking. Maybe we could go to the movies on Friday nights and do fun things like those ladies who wear red hats.
I went to bed and decided I would take my uncle’s advice and go back to a meeting tomorrow and see if I could stop drinking for a week.
As I was falling asleep, my pseudo boyfriend Dr. Jake called.

“How was your day?” he asked over the phone.

“Fine,” I replied. “I went to AA.”

“Really?” he said acting surprised.

“Yeah, I am pretty sure that I need to be there, it just seems like a pain in the ass,” I said. “Did you know you have to go there everyday?”

“Well, yes. I had to go to AA meetings when I was in school.
Every therapist has to.”

“It’s kind of boring, but there was this really pretty blonde girl there that looked like someone who I would have gotten wasted with all the time.”
I loved getting drunk with pretty girls and telling them how pretty they were.
It’s no wonder girls love hanging out with gay guys.