The Sweet Spot

Following my self imposed imprisonment  construction of a catch-net for Miss 17 this evening instead of sitting in a rugby stadium with the rest of my family watching England destroy Canada in sub-zero temperatures, I have been enjoying the finest cheap(ish) bottle of wine available from the local supermarket.

I have now drunk two rather large glasses. Two thirds of the bottle has gone. I’m keeping the final third to award to my other half when she gets in. If I drink it, all bets are off in either my ability to string two words together, or my ability to avoid a headache in the morning.

It’s a funny thing – drinking. I’ve always been the kind of person that can take or leave most things. I’m aware that not all people are like me though – as evidenced by those that know better than to let themselves anywhere near alcohol, or any other mind altering substance. Half the reason two glasses of wine have gone straight to my head is because it’s the first alcohol I have drunk all week. Alcohol is probably something of a shock to my caffeine proof innards.

Something I do know about drinking is that you hit a sort of “sweet spot” – after a couple of drinks your inhibitions fall away, and something is unlocked in your brain. Perhaps it’s not something specific – perhaps the removal of filters, and pretend bravery allows us to say and do things we might not otherwise contemplate. We can suddenly win the game of pool because we play on instinct. We can suddenly talk to this guy or that girl because we stop over-analyzing every word that leaves our mouth. Maybe we say what we’re really thinking.

It’s a two-way street though. While some of us become introspective, truthful, and charming when the filters are removed, others become aggressive, angry, and abusive. I’ve seen it happen, more than once.

I know it shouldn’t be funny, but my favourite memory of character altering inebriation happened nearly twenty years ago. The son of the boss of the company I was working for had been drinking heavily during a night out at a ten-pin-bowling alley. He was boasting about how much his designer shirt cost. A slightly overweight guy piped up “see this?” (he points at his faded Disneyland t-shirt) – this cost me £3000. The young, drunk guy EXPLODED – trying to throw punches while being held back by his friends. I’m giggling while writing this – twenty years later.

Anyway. I’m NOT drinking any more tonight. I’m saving the rest for my other half when she gets home. If I drink any more, all manner of truths, secrets and idiocy will probably start seeping through the keyboard and out onto the internet.

Trust me – you really don’t want to know either how much I like half of you, how much I dislike less than half of you, or who can go stick it right up their…

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