Habitual

I have always known better than to get out of control drunk around people I didn't trust. My oldest brother always wanted to see me really drunk, and I never let him, in no small part because it was so damn important to him. There were other acquaintances over the years who I never had so much as a single beer around. Specifically because I didn't trust being around them if I were not in full control of myself. And, well, even on a bit of alcohol, I'm pretty much solid.

A guy in the E club at Ft. Sam misread me badly, once. Thought I was sloshed, thought he could talk me into an out of the way place, to do as he wanted, despite assurances of just kissing. I let him do his spiel. Only when it was time for me to break off to my own barracks did I let him see how sober, to the core sober, I really was. I really do like to make a small amount of inebriant solution to go a long way. Cheap drunk. I had let myself loosen with a few drinks, and I had, then, a very high tolerance for alcohol, due to inexpensive military outlets. I didn't ever really get so drunk, couldn't without explosive vomiting, that I couldn't pull myself up and defend myself. Not that I ever push it so far these days. So, poor guy, got oh so politely and firmly brushed off with a no doubt condescending smile and a clear, strong voice in perfect control.

So, today when a new GP tried to give me the same anti-binge-drinking lecture she no doubt gives to her college student patients, I had to smile. First, way too late, second, by this point, I know my limits and how to be responsible and I never did get myself in trouble even when I didn't. And nothing she could say would change my behaviour at forty-six for fucksake. GPs really would prefer we all live in safe little boxes with treadmills attached to testing units. I prefer life.

Rarely, if ever, actually, have I ever done anything out of defiance or spite. Getting a bit buzzed tonight, though. More than the regimented TWO! Ok, there was that time I had to run faster than the girls in my squad who treated me like crap, and I aced my PT test in San Antonio. Twice in 46 years is hardly a habitual reaction.


Gods in hell.