Love is a lot like drinking. You begin slowly, testily, telling yourself that you’ll take it easy but nothing serious and it’ll just be in and out. I mean, everyone thinks they can handle their alcohol much and that they wouldn’t get in too deep. Then for the flimsiest of reasons and a whisper of an excuse, you get persuaded to stay and have “just one more”. Before you know it, you’re feeling fuzzy and warm all over and can’t quite seem to think of anything else but the next round.
Soon there you are doing shot after shot, not quite remembering why you began or what the occasion was but enjoying the moment anyway. You become reckless, making ill informed decisions and not caring anyway because the truth is, you’re having too much fun. Who knows, you may even decide to “take things to the next level” and then proceed on to go to a club, getting yourself stamped with a semi permanent mark and for awhile, it’s all you can think about acquiring. The hottest, most prestigious stamp, indelibly pressed into your skin like a brand of sorts. True, clubs aren’t for everyone and some people have firm views on it, vowing never to step foot into that door and not wanting to believe in the institution of it, but like most people, you just decided to “go with the flow” and now, here you are. Truth is, part of you did want to get in didn’t you?
Within the club itself, you may even choose to sign yourself up to the commitment of a table and bottles; the only real question is…. How many bottles should we have? After all, everyone’s doing it anyway and we all can’t seem to wait for the bottles to arrive. After all, that’s the point of a club isn’t it? Bottle service. So you shuffle from your one coaster bar spot to a lavish spread, believing that you didn’t overpay to sink your buttocks into the plush velvet and that all this really is worth it. But enough about the real estate; the point of such a nest is to have space for the bottles! We kick off with one, knowing full well that by the time you’re anywhere close to halfway on it, you’re already thinking of what to get for number 2. And truth is, once 1 and 2 are done, you deliberate a little before having 3. Sometimes you see some big spender somewhere lavishing enough bottles to start a bowling alley and you can’t help but wonder as to whether it’s folly or he… Really does love those bottles! Or perhaps he’s been pressured into it by some vixen…
At this stage, you realize that things may or may not have escalated too quickly, but you decide it’s exactly where you wanted to be anyway and to just “go with it”. After all, it’s all within your control and you’ve been adhering to the rules.
Only one type of alcohol, God forbid you’ve allowed yourself to mix and we all know that it’s the dark ones that can be really dangerous. After all, you’ve been wise with your choices, declining that innocent looking hazel nut brown shot of 151, what with the horror stories you’ve heard about it. Needless to say, you’ve done an admirable job steering well clear and away from that sultry Hennessy after the memory of an ill advised foray in your youth and sticking almost religiously to your drink of choice. I tend to prefer Asian alcohols, perhaps it’s something I’ve become familiar with though in recent times it appears I’ve drunk more soju than scotch; even though my peers may chide me for having a drink that requires sweetening with various soft drinks to become palatable. Others may choose their own particular brand of poison and perhaps you can’t quite understand, but it’s really all about personal preference isn’t it? Though that being said I think most of us are open to trying everything at least once…Besides, our tastes are ever changing and we all go through phases and oh, what the hell. Who knows why anyone likes anything anyway?