Here is a typical drinking scenario for me:
If it is a really good day, girl goes to bar for happy hour to discuss some type of work related topic. Girl has between 1 and around 2 (alcoholics are the opposite of fishermen… we round down…) glasses of wine and then drives home. The drive home is accompanied by a nice buzz which makes the time fly, birds sing and the world shine with a happiness hue that can only be explained by good ol’ dopamine. Girl then proceeds to next paragraph one step ahead of less-good-day girl.
On a less-good-day, girl drives home with thoughts of wine and silently curses anything that prohibits the expeditious arrival to home-sweet-home where the heels are kicked off, the comfy sweats are donned and the glass is poured, all at seemingly breakneck speed.
Ahhhhhh. Happiness. Bliss. Relaxation.
Somewhere in the middle of all that relaxation, the sips get faster, the managing of the amount in the bottle vs. the amount imbibed slips out of proportion, the glass always seems to be coming up empty and the next moment of conscious, full memory is the next morning when the sun rises. That is not to say that the girl doesn’t accomplish plenty of things somewhere between relaxed-state and coma-state…they are just hard to remember and executed in a robot-like state.
Night after night, the routine remains ritualistically the same. Drink two, three maybe even four glasses of wine, slip in to a purgatory-like state in spite of all efforts to pace, drink water, eat, sit upright, slam RedBull etc… And then crash…
This is life for the girl 95% of the time. At home. In public. At a friend’s house. On vacation.
However, every once in a fucking while, the girl rallies. She is a rock-star. She is drinking. She is happy. She is the life-of-the-party. She dances. She sings. She is wise. Alluring. Smart. Seductive. She has energy oozing from her pores and she can actually still stand after a whole bottle of wine!!!
This is life for the girl 5% of the time. It almost never happens this way.
Yet. That is the funny thing about us alcoholics. We laugh in the face of probabilities and averages. They don’t apply to us. 5% is validation that it can be ok. 5% means to us that we have this shit under control in spite of what the rest of you all think.
Math. It has never been the girls strength.