Two Weddings and One Drunk

So today's wedding was completely sober and sunny and lovely and I even took four little girls down to the beach and we all had a swim in the waves. Not much in common with the wedding a week ago - at night, people stumbling around the garden in the mud, sloppy and drunk and smoking. Entirely different occasions.

Today, I told the groom that part of my gift to him was not drinking his bar dry. We laughed and agreed that I would've drunk a good $100 or so worth of over the counter drinks if I was still hustling from table to bar and back again which was my usual routine at weddings. Sweaty-browed, chatting over-familiar with the bar staff as if we were all in some conspiracy to get as much drunk in my gullet as possible.

I had the time to actually listen to the people I was sitting with - a lovely woman who shared her dream of going into the food business - and there was no me ducking off to refill my glass or making out I had to go somewhere when all I really wanted was another and another full glass of wine. Quite amazing really to just be able to talk 'normally' without being half shot and thinking there was maybe something going on or imagining scenarios in my head.

Sad really that my hazy drunk state would permit me to indulge in these wild real-time fantasies that someone was sort of looking at me in a certain way and that it was not just a look but a secretive signal that she was interested but that somehow, we could never actually realize our desire, and talking would have to do for now.

Whispering and laughing in that drunken flirty way where you think you are on the same page but, in hindsight, you were simply drunk and delusional and not far away from getting into some sort of strife with her husband. Or my wife. Just utter careless risky business really. All a grand delusion.

So being sober and subtle and just cool is actually quite lovely.

But that is not where it ends...

Last weeks wedding was a rollercoaster.

For starters, my wife was in the bridal party, so she left town for the preparations.
Then, my daughters went for babysitting for the weekend.
I was home, alone, unsupervised, and - well, tired and vulnerable and before I knew it I was standing in front of the cellar, running my finger along all the bottles of wine and scotch and vodka and basically every fucking alcoholic beverage you can think of. All neatly lined up in boxes and rows and just sitting there in the midnight light. And me alone and vulnerable and tired and feeling a bit like no one would ever know if I had a bottle or three.