You're sitting in a restaurant - you've just taken up your knife and fork and a couple of bites from your main course to your lips - and the waitstaff hovers over.
"Everything OK?" She smiles.
You have a mouthful and most likely nod and smile and look towards your date for approval - she nods too.
"Great" the waitstaff nods too, "Let's know if you need anything.." and she drifts away.
So today the guy on the radio said that this interchange was formally acknowledging that the meal was satisfactory for consumption and that you would fulfill your obligation to make payment without complaint.
He called it the 'two bite test'
I thought of my unspoken, implied contract as an alcoholic - and how I was beguiled into believing the gentle fantasy of 'getting towards drunk' was a promise of happiness and, quite possibly, happiness plus. Or Super Happiness. Like getting an ice cream, but a double, or instead of a standard holiday, a first class holiday.
Like there was a way to upgrade happiness to a higher and even more thrilling and satisfying emotion.
Or to intensify moments like relaxing Sunday afternoons to a higher plane "Wouldn't it be great to have a beer now?" or other times "Imagine watching this stoned?" - Always thinking that the spice of drugs or alcohol would be just what was needed to add that something extra to the experience.
And it sort of worked - fuck, I had some awesome times and no one can take them away from me - but as a way of life, it just is unsustainable.
So here I am, unplugged, raw and living it real.
I've taken the two bites of sobriety and nodded to the waitstaff that yes, it is fine, and I am ready to proceed.