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I looked at him dumbfounded. I thought that I had just done a macho thing. I came to the conclusion, albeit briefly, that he was right. Drinking is never a contest. Drinking is never a competition. From that point on, I never drank in order to impress anybody. I had plenty of other excuses for drinking, though. I drank so I could breathe easier. I drank so I could forget how lousy my life was. I drank because I was an alcoholic. That night, I got blitzed in record time. I visited the bathroom, got sick twice, and took a few minutes and cleaned up after myself. As I left, another party patron stood at the bathroom door waiting his turn. Unavoidably, he had heard me wretching my guts out. He glanced into the bathroom expecting to see vomit splayed floor tiles, but instead found only the immaculate condition that the room had possessed prior to my gut-heaving visit. "You’re the cleanest drunk I’ve ever seen," he said. For some reason, that stuck with me and I was proud of that; even though I was a drunk, I was clean drunk. Terry found me shortly thereafter. He put an arm around me and handed me a little green pill. "What’s this?" I slurred. "It’s a little green monster…a downer. Take it and you’ll be out in about half an hour. Trust me. It’s for your own good." I glanced around the room, wondering where I was going to end up passing out. Terry must have read my mind. "Take the bedroom on the left. It’s my sister’s room, but she hasn’t been here for about four months." The party continued on as I closed the bedroom door behind me, shutting out a little of the noise. I laid down on the waterbed. In fifteen minutes I was out. A few weeks later I moved into the Love Shack. I had been spending almost every night there drinking, anyhow. Terry’s sister was long gone and he needed a room mate- someone to help defray rental expense, thereby freeing up more money to spend on alcohol. I invited Pat Delford over and soon he became a regular fixture of our after hours Love Shack drinking parties. Terry took us both under his proverbial wing and taught us the etiquette of alcoholism. For five months we immersed ourselves in the drinking culture. Terry was the master artisan guiding two young neophytes through a brave new world. We learned the nomenclature of partying. We learned the proper techniques and procedures for being hosts and guests. We learned how to avoid being publicly drunken jerks.
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