The devil’s name is Tito

… the devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for …”–Tucker Max, ‘Assholes Finish First’

This airplane-sized bottle of Tito’s was staring at me on the bed when I went into the vacant flight attendant’s room to change clothes after work and before church this morning. I always wanted to try Tito’s but was too cheap to pony up for it. I remember asking the guy in Bullock’s Liquors in Marietta if it was worth it and he said something like, “Only if you’re a vodka connoisseur.” I promptly put it back on the shelf, as I didn’t consider pouring it down my throat six times a day to be the c-word. For whatever reason, I threw the miniature bottle in my book bag as I left the room this morning. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t leave it in the room. I’d give it to someone else, I told myself.

Next thing I knew, I was leaving Kohl’s after church and was exhausted and hungry and was about five minutes from my house. I’d drunk all my Diet Coke and Diet Rock Star and was exhausted. Then I remembered the Tito’s. Game, set, match…my mother has been telling me about the spirit of the python–Google it if you’ve never heard of it. I fell for the entire trap. Within 30 seconds flat I’d emptied the Tito’s while driving in my truck down Blue Diamond. It was just like old times, and the Tito’s was as smooth as I’d imagined it would be. Was it worth it? Not really. Do I regret it? That’s debatable. Was it dramatic? Not at all. Am I being honest about slipping up? Absolutely. I’m going to the fancypants Zappos block party downtown tonight with my friend Cory and am not drinking a drop, even though we get wristbands for AYCD and appetizers. The appeal isn’t there; I was never a social drinker, anyway. I don’t need the alcohol to be happy these days. It never actually made me happy; it just blurred everything and distracted me. And I always drank in the most inappropriate places: work, class, church, and–yes–while driving. Clearly those habits will never change were I to start drinking again. I’m an inappropriate alcoholic, what can I say.

[End confessional.] I read a blurb on about social media being the new group therapy. That’s an understatement. Until next time, stay well. I’ll try to do the same.


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