My experience with alcohol

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So, I stumbled on a post by Olasquare some hours back. In the post, he tells us about his short-lived experience with alcohol, and how he and this sanity-stealing substance had to part ways for good. Well, I saw a reflection of myself in his story so I decided to recount my brief experience with the bottle as well.

The Beginning.

Most alcoholics would agree that they got introduced to drinking right from home. Probably one of their parents or both, in some cases, take alcoholic drinks. Such is my story. Dear father isn't exactly an alcoholic because I've never seen him get drunk before, but he doesn't refrain from taking alcoholic drinks.

On my first moment with alcohol - I can't remember how old I was exactly but I know I was definitely still below the age of ten - dad came home with a green bottle. It was bigger than the usual bottles I'd seen at the time. It was square-ish in shape. (Later got to know it was a gin bottle, Seaman Gin, precisely.) So, whenever dad took a capful of his strange drink, he would squeeze his face to accompany the gulping. That seemed very funny to me, but since dad wouldn't let me have my turn, nor explain to me convincingly why I couldn't, I became inquisitive to have my face squeezed while gulping a capful of this colourless substance too.

On this day, dad was at work, but his bottle was in the refrigerator, at home with me. Hehe.. The refrigerator was locked as usual, but unbeknownst to my beloved parents, I'd already found my own way of beating the security system

Employing the services of a friend of mine, we invaded the refrigerator and brought out the bottle. We each took a sip of the liquid. It was horrible. It had this pungent and acidic taste that burned my throat while I swallowed it. I could now understand, regretfully, why dad squeezed his face whenever he drank it.

In that moment, mom who had left her workplace unusually early that day, walked in and caught us, little rascals in the act. Well, I won't bore you with details of the flogging I received.

The subtle longings.

Ever since that first experience, dad would go on, warning me sternly to stay away from alcohol. But why? If it was so bad, who did he still take it himself? Sometimes, you never understand adults and their ways.

The rebellious instinct in me never stopped longing to taste alcohol again, especially beer. It always felt nice seeing commercials of beer drinks such as Heineken, 33, Gulder, Star, Satzenbrau etc on TV whenever football matches go on halftime breaks. I wanted to know how these all tasted, and why a fuzz was always made about them during football matches. Maybe they were some kind of elixir that would make me a better football player after drinking?

While I spent the most of my teenage years hoping to have a taste of beer, it never happened. Dad had stopped keeping alcoholic drinks at home. And when he did, he'd make sure that they were still uncorked so I wouldn't dream of tampering with them.

The years went by quickly, and yours truly had attained the adult age. By this time, I was in my third year at the university. A friend and classmate of mine invited me to this party at his family home. It happened that one of his cousins just passed his Institute of Chartered Accountants of Nigeria (ICAN) exam and was celebrating the feat. At the party, I was served a sumptuous plate of rice and chicken. For the drinks, I was told to make my choice. There were soft drinks and alcoholic ones too. I'm guessing you already know the choice I made. Yes, it was a chilled bottle of Trophy lager beer. (Don't judge me. I needed to satisfy my longing, you know.)

To my surprise, beer wasn't horrible as gin. My friend's cousins were impressed that I could drink alcohol, unlike their cousin, my friend, who abstained from drinking. It felt nice. I would go on to taste other kinds such as Star Radler in my later visits to my friend's place.

NB: All these times, I'd never been intoxicated because I drank moderately.

The let-down and inevitable parting.

Sometimes in April this year, I'd just finished writing my final paper as an undergraduate. A classmate of mine, beautiful and charming, (she's actually my love interest) invited my friend and me to a little party to celebrate the end of our schooling journey. At the party, there were all kinds of drinks. Soft drinks, Whisky, red wine, etc.

I thought I'd be impressing my crush if I drank alcohol at the party. So, silly me began to mix all different kinds of drinks, and gulping them as the party went on.

To cut the story short, I became intoxicated to the point where I lost my grip on reason, and began to say things out of sense, as I was later told by my friend and my crush.

The next day, I felt deeply embarrassed and ashamed of myself when I remembered some of my behaviour in my state of drunkenness the previous night. I also hated the feeling of hangover. That was the day I finally called it quits with drinking. That I did with a little piece of poem as a memento of the ugly experience.