We all have heard, and many of us have related to, Garth Brooks famous song, “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places”, where he tells us that, “whiskey drowns and the beer chases the blues away”. I believe that anyone that drinks at all has been there, at one time or another. Usually resulting from being hurt by the opposite sex, we come up with, and go out and make the grand gesture of, deciding that we are going to wash that man, or woman, out of our mind and hearts, by tying on a “good one”. I’ve been there, have you?
I remember one particular night when I went out with the intended mission of chasing my blues away. The bartender proceeded to fill me full of double shots of Goldslagger, while I sat there crying my eyes and heart out over a man, which I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, that decided he preferred the company of the town hussy over mine. I was devastated, humiliated, and totally and completely confused. Needless to say, the bartender ended up having to carry me out over his shoulder, and flopping me into the backseat of my neighbor’s vehicle. I was utterly unable to stand, without falling to my knees.
My significant other, at the time, used to have this ring tone on his phone with Tiger’s voice that said, “You have a phone call, I wonder who it is”. When he first put it on his phone, I thought it was cute, and it would put a smile on my face every time I heard it. I soon grew to despise it, and even the thought of it, to this very day, brings a cold, unwelcome chill up my spine.
When I got home that night, and crawled my way into the house, he was sleeping soundly in our bed. But his phone soon started ringing at that ungodly hour, like it had many times before, and many times after that. All I could do was repeatedly slur Tiger’s words over and over, emphasizing, “I wonder who it is”, in a sarcastic tone. Needless to say, he got up and spent the rest of the night in her bed, instead of ours, like he did many times, claiming that he had spent it somewhere else.
Of course, the Goldslagger night, became one of many, as I desperately attempted to cling on to someone that I valued like no other, but had no idea how to keep. It was a useless mission, and anytime I tried to talk to him about it, my attempts were only countered, with telling me how jealous and possessive I was. Even after I left for a few days, only to begin receiving phone calls from our friends, asking how to get to our home for the party, that I later found out they had planned together, to have at my/our home, and neglected to invite me to. So I arrived home early, only to have her pull up in my driveway at 3:00 in the morning, after getting off of work, from the bar that he and I had once frequented together.
One of the points is, my heart refused to accept, what my head knew was true, so I tried to drown out my head and the knowledge, in one bottle after the other. Not very attractive, and it left him with nothing of value to come home, or back to. More and more, the woman that had slept with every man in town, and probably, every man that passed through; was commonly referred to by many, as being built like a man, and behaving like one too; could drink any sailor under the table; and had aged well beyond her years, appeared way more appealing, and of value than the slobbering, heartbroken heap, I was turning into. Of course, her confidence was soaring, as I allowed her to continue to suck ever ounce of mine away, and claim it for her own.
What was once a successful business woman, independent, someone that had an idea about where she wanted to be and head, had turned into less than a shadow of herself, in constant sheer panic and self-destruct mode. I was driving away the love that I was so desperately, trying to keep and hold on to. Between the events that were taking place making me numb and confused, my brain did not have any chance of thinking clearly, as the bottles mounted up. There were more bottles of beer in our garbage can, between the two of us, than they threw out at the busiest bar in town. The perfect gag gift would have been a first-aid kit that opened up to a bottle of Bud-light, and a syringe.
Not only that, but you may be surprised to know that drinking to forget, is very unlikely. The tool that you are running to so desperately, to drown out those sorrows, actually has been proven to increase the memories of the events, according to research conducted by Maggie Kalev and Matthew During… especially excessive drinking. You may forget all the ridiculous things that you did that night, while under the influence, until at least, your buddy unfortunately reminds you the next day, but you are only enhancing the memories, and pain that drove you there to begin with.
So, to make a long story short, if you are thinking of drinking to drive the blues away…think again. You are only compounding the problem that already existed by not thinking clearly to solve the problem, and enhancing, as well as prolonging, the memories and the feelings that drove you there to begin with.
Here’s to some of the best times, you’ll never remember, and hope to…remember to forget.