Surprise, surprise; I still haven’t managed to achieve 24 hours of sobriety.
Once again, I made it to 10 p.m. and then ‘picked up’. It is becoming a familiar pattern. I stayed at home all day yesterday. In the morning, my nympho girlfriend called and said she wanted to come and see me, so she duly arrived and we spent a pleasant couple of hours together.
Then she went off to work and I spent the rest of the day clearing up my condo and working on my computer.
By 9 p.m. I was getting pretty hungry, and being too lazy to cook anything, I went off to the local pub for a bite to eat. By this time my body was completely free of alcohol, and I felt pretty good, but when I arrived at the pub and was asked what I wanted to drink, for some unaccountable reason I ordered a beer rather than the cup of tea I had planned to order. Why did I do this? Because I am weak and stupid?
Yes, both of the forgoing. I am also sick – my mind is sick. Sometimes it seems that my mind is under the control of an alien influence. Alcohol is more than just an addictive substance; it is something that takes over one’s very mind and soul.
So one beer followed another, and then one Sangsom followed another, and before I knew it, it was 2 a.m. and I was in my third bar. I decided to drive around to Jomtien beach and go to another one of my locals that was usually open until at least 3 or 4 a.m., but to my dismay they had closed early. I curb-crawled the length and breadth of Jomtien but failed to find an open bar. There were a few late openers around the area of the Hanuman Statue, but they didn’t look very inviting, so I decided to drive to Walking Street where I knew I could find bars open 24/7.
But as I drove out of Jomtien and was about the pass the entrance to my Condo entrance, I made a momentous decision. It may not seem much, but to me it was significant. I said to myself:
“WTF are you driving to Walking Street for at 2.30 in the morning. What good will it do you? You’re already half pissed, and if you go there you will drink all night, spend a lot of money and feel like shit again.”
Good question. I had no rational answer, so I turned into the condo entrance and drove home.
I took two anti histamine tablets and an extra anti depressant to help me sleep, and crashed about 3 a.m. After eight full hours of deep sleep, I awoke, feeling sleepy, but refreshed, and with only a slight hangover.
So today I will try again. Maybe I can make it this time.
Here’s a comment that I received yesterday that I will publish in my main blog, together with my response.
Man, you are completely nuts. Why on earth would you want to marry an alcoholic hooker who you don’t trust and is clearly only with you because you pay her to be? Because she looks “classy” in her figure hugging bar clothes?
I have a few friends who have had successful relationships with ex-bar girls. The only way it can be done is if you remove money from the equation. If not, you’ll never trust her and treat her as a whore; and she’ll never trust you and see you only as a customer.
And sod the AA. That’s not what you need. You need to see a proper therapist who can deal with all your issues. The booze seems the least of your worries. You have money left, so spend it wisely on a good shrink.
Yes, I am completely nuts and have said as much on many occasions in my blog.
But with respect, you seem to have missed the point of my blog.
I am writing a true account of what has happened in my life, and in fact the story of my wedding to Dang in yesterday’s blog occurred five years ago.
I am also writing about my daily struggles with life in ‘paradise’, and my fight against alcoholism, so for you to tell me I am nuts and should avoid avaricious bar girls is pointless and unhelpful. I have never attempted to deny my irrational and extremely ludicrous behaviour.
The debate about whether a farang can ever have a long, happy and successful relationship with an ex bar girl has been raging, back and forth for as long as farangs have been indulging in such activities.
Many farangs try to deny the origins of their relationship; others pretend all is well, when the reality is that very often, the marriage is a miserable disaster. Of course there are always exceptions, but in my 37 years experience of Thailand, I would assert that the truly successful ones are few and far between.
But that doesn’t stop me, and countless thousands of other farangs, forever trying to prove that it can work, even though we know in our heart that it can never be so.
Again, with respect, how can you possibly know that booze isn’t at the root of my problems? OK, you could argue that problems in life can turn you to booze, and I have already blogged that I was abused by a domineering father from a very young age, (a very common issue with many alcoholics), and at some point turned to booze for solace and relief.
But it doesn’t matter what turns a person to alcohol in the first place, the fact remains that once they are alcoholics, it then becomes the main problem, and all behaviour from then on is predicated by an increasingly alcohol-befuddled brain. It is only by stopping drinking, and then trying to sort their lives out that alcoholics can stay sober and find happiness.
I have had some therapy, which I will write about later, and even though I now have less faith in AA than I did a few months ago, I still accept that AA is probably the only way forward for people like me, and my best chance of reaching sobriety.
And now the conclusion to the account of Mobi’s unforgettable wedding day:
MOBI’S STORY – (PART 35)
THE RETIREMENT YEARS (CONTINUED)
“It’s time for wife number 5”
The area was strewn with empty bottles, half eaten food and other litter, and a few drunken groups were still defying gravity and sipping beer or whisky from half empty glasses.
Dang was sitting at a table with her friends from Bangkok, and I joined them. To my relief, she declared that she was tired and told me she was going to bed. As she staggered towards the house, one of her friends called out from the table. I cannot recall exactly what was said, but I do remember that it was something inoffensive – just a joke, but in her alcohol fueled brain, Dang took umbrage. She turned back to the table and started shouting and screaming at her friend. The friend screamed back, before you knew what was happening a full scale brawl was in progress.
Friends and family eventually separated the two fighting women, who continued to shout abuse at each other, but before you knew it, everyone started to take sides and joined in the arguing and shouting. The whole affair looked in imminent danger of getting out of control, and quite possibly dangerous.
I was disgusted. What a brilliant conclusion to our wedding night – a drunken brawl. Of course I was also drunk, and as I watched Dang continuing her never ending tirade against her life long friend, I became infuriated with her and went over to her and told her so. I asked her why she had to spoil everything and why did she had to pick fights with friends who had traveled all the way from Bangkok to help her celebrate her wedding.
It was the worse thing I could have done.
Dang immediately turned on me and changed the direction of the fight form one between friends to one between newly married husband and wife. She accused me of being disloyal, of not supporting her, and preferring to take herb friend’s side, and all kinds of other nonsense. She went on and on, but her extremely inebriated state was starting take hold of her. She could barely stand or speak rationally and looked in danger of passing out. So a few of her family grabbed hold of her and half dragged, half carried her upstairs to the bedroom, where she passed out.
I didn’t follow. I was too worried that she might wake up and continue the fight – something she had done on a number of previous occasions. So I sat back down at the table with her friends and family and had a few more drinks while all those present offered there sympathies to me that the night had turned into such a catastrophe. After a while I decide to creep upstairs and see if I could quietly creep in next to Dang and get some long needed sleep. But Dang must have woken up at some point, because I found the bedroom door locked and I couldn’t get in.
So I slept on the floor downstairs, and upon awakening a few hours later, I climbed into my car and drove back to Bangkok – alone.
A wonderful start to our married life together.