My friend Steve was a great guy as long as he was sober. When he drank, he kept drinking until he lost control of his memory and his keyboard. The day after he would be apologetic but his wife, Barbara, took most of the damage. Social media was a big problem, and Barbara woke up every morning after one of Steve’s benders and started tracking down what he said and who he said it to.
Then came the day that Barbara packed her stuff, moved out, and took the dog and the kids with her. Steve was freaked out. He came to me for help and I told him to seek help for this drinking binges and before he got the woman back, he would have to prove he was willing to change.
I told him to ditch his online girlfriend or lose his wife. No. Other. Choices.
His online girl was a looker to be certain. Younger, hotter, interesting, and she didn’t exist.
I was surprised. But all of this, this train wreck that one night of hard drinking Steve went through, never really happened.
If a group of women conspire against you, there is no hope of defense. If you’re too drunk to see it coming, you might as well close your eyes and just go along for the ride.
Reba Reynolds never existed.
But she did flirt with Steve while he was drunk and online, and she did look good. But she was a photo of a cute woman no one knew. A complete fabrication of Barbara, her sister, and a couple of friends. First, they were just going to see if Steve would respond to a strange woman. He did. First test failed. Then they wanted to know how far he was willing to go. Second test truly failed. And finally, they wondered if he would agree to meet Reba somewhere privately.
Steve bailed. Even drunk, really and truly drunk, he backed away from the abyss. As they were setting up the date, Steve simply closed out the program, shut the computer off, and passed out on the sofa.
Of course, the next morning he got a message from Reba thanking him for the photos and expressing excitement over them meeting in person.
Barbara moved out that day. Steve was left with his imaginary friend and his drinking habit.
Steve broke up with Reba. Told her he wanted his wife back. He started a fire in his burn barrel and I think the space station could have spotted the bourbon burning.
He went to AA, avoided his friends who drank, and stayed upright and sober. Reba would show up every once in a while, but he blocked her.
One day, years later, when he had been sober for so long he lost track of it, I asked him what happened. One of Barb’s friends had told me, and sworn me to secrecy, but he never asked, never wanted to break the spell of trying to get clean, and just left it where it lay. But he told me he always wondered what a fifth of Jack Daniels looked like when it burned. He put a bunch of wood in the barrel, set a bottle upright, and torched it. As the blue flames finally went out, Steve realized he wasn’t likely to remember that much bourbon any other way but on fire. The wife, the kids, the dog, his home, his job, and life as he knew it shook him, but that one moment of clarity came from watching Jack Daniels burn.
Take Care,
Mike, Day 87.
Mike, you are an inspiration. Thank you.