The other day I posted about the lies that alcohol tells us. I wrote about how drinking is commercialized as a celebratory past time. We see ads featuring young, sexy people toasting to each other’s amazing, pretty lives. We grew up on movies about people just like us who get hammered at parties. They have the time of their lives before experiencing a meaningful, happy ending. But that’s not real life. I wanted to write about the dark side of drinking. I drank heavily for 25 years and though I had some really great times, I experienced far more low points in that time. Sure, I met lots of pretty, sexy young people at bars and clubs, but really, living life out of a bottle gets you closer to people living in agony. This is a story about a former friend I will call Bill.
The Dark Side of Alcohol: Bill
I met Bill when he was 18 years old and I was 20. We didn’t have much in common other than being two straight, young men who liked to drink, but he was a sweet kid back then. Since neither of us were old enough to drink at a bar we would find ways to get booze and then drink it anywhere we could. Sometimes it would be in my car, but mostly it was outside in broad daylight. We would hide in the back of buildings or any place we could be just out of sight. Our favorite spot to drink was through a storm drain and into a dry channel full of overgrowth. There we could spend hours drinking, smoking and pissing without being bothered by the police.
As we both got older our thirst for alcohol became more intense. Since my alcoholism only grew in my 20’s it was more and more difficult to get my other friends to drink with me as much as I wanted them to. If all else failed, I knew I could count on Bill to drink with me. The problem was when he and I got together, neither of us had an off switch. Bill was also a peculiar character and he didn’t have many friends. Actually, Bill was very mentally ill. The more he drank, the harder it was to be in public with him, and when he got really drunk he always wanted to be around more people.
Nothing Sexy About It
He had this ability to repel people. It seemed to give him joy. I never liked it, but I put up with it because he was the only person who liked to drink more than I did. So, more often than not, when we both got really drunk, I would try and convince him not to be social. Or at least not until I was good and drunk myself and could simply leave when he became too irritating.
As the years went by he became an outcast to society. He had been kicked out of so many bars that it was often difficult to keep track. Of course, that didn’t matter. Even though we were both old enough to go to a bar, we still preferred to drink in public. This way we could drink as much as we wanted to on the cheap, and I didn’t have to deal with the consequences of being in public with him. But I would see the look on people’s faces when he would come around. Eventually, I became his only friend, and truth be told, I didn’t really like him as a person. That sweet kid I met had disappeared into this bitter, angry man. I only hung out with him because as my life fell apart, his was always worse.
Bill’s Decent
He was my scapegoat – my fall guy. No matter how bad I felt about myself, I could always escape that mess and visit his. Then I could tell myself it wasn’t that bad what I was going through, because look at Bill. He was practically unemployable by the time he was 28. His mother refused to let him live with her and his father begrudgingly let him live with him. I could only take him in small amounts so I rarely returned his phone calls. He would get drunk and leave me angry voicemails followed by unintelligible apologies. Time would go on and I would have that desire to go get destroyed so I would get in touch with him. Then we would go on a bender for a couple of days before I had to cut him out again.
Bill would get himself kicked out of his dad’s house and would be homeless from time to time. He would leave me voicemails in the middle of night, drunk in some park. He would tell me stories of how he got kicked out of bars for harassing people. Sometimes he would find another serious drunk like me and he would hang out with them for a while before they too ditched him.
The Dark Side of Alcohol: I Had No Respect for Myself
Throughout the years I had more bad experiences with him than good. I helped him vandalize a car. We had both stolen quite a bit of money from a place we briefly worked at. He once got me into a fight with two guys at the same time. I got beat up and he never bothered to intervene. I didn’t like him and he invited trouble, but I was such a bad alcoholic that I put up with it so as to have someone to drink with.
The very last time I saw him I picked him up at a bus station and took him to a church where he got a motel voucher for the night. He’d been kicked out again and had nowhere to go. As I sat with him in that small motel room, he drank a 40 ounce of Bud Light. I didn’t drink with him this time and for the life of me, cannot remember why. I always knew I was his only friend and though it always felt like a burden, I also wanted to see myself in a good light, so I would show up for him in times of need. But this would be the last time.
When Alcohol Has Destroyed Your Life
I cut him off for good, but this wouldn’t prevent him from calling me and leaving me messages throughout the years. He would document his life during these messages that went unreturned. His conditioned has only worsened and now both of his parents refuse to let him live with them. I do not know how he lives but it sounds like he lives in squalor. A few months ago I finally answered his call. I again told him to stop calling me. He told me that everyone hates him. Though I felt pity for him, I could not let myself become wrapped back up in that life.
No, I don’t know what will become of Bill and I know that I am not innocent here. I used him to feel better about myself and helped fuel the one thing that has destroyed his life. If I could go back I would never have drank with him. But I can’t go back. Instead of medication, Bill chose alcohol to treat his issues. Who he is now is a shell of the young man I met all those years ago, and to be around him is to accept chaos into my life. Who knows, maybe someday in the future after I have recovered I will reach out to try and help him, but I truly believe he is incapable of being honest with himself or anyone else.
What You See In Commercials is not Reality
So, when I see those commercials of the pretty people in a high end bar toasting each other to some great milestone, I often think of Bill. I think of how we sat in ditches and drank shitty beer. I think of the darkness that overtook a sweet kid and the toll it has taken on his family. This is not to say that people cannot drink responsibly, or to say that it cannot be the catalyst for a great celebration. I am just saying that the truth about alcohol is that is ruins people’s lives all the time. It is the cause of violence and tragedy, yet our culture obsesses over it. For every beautiful person glamorously sipping a champagne, there are two people who are killed in a traffic collision because of alcohol. It’s insane… just ask Bill.
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