Genesis

I believe the moment is upon us. After seven insightful blogs with detailed accounts of my drunken antics of the present, I will now enlighten you to when my innocence was stripped away and I had my first experience with the fateful drug that now governs the main part of my social life; the first night I ever got drunk.

Ironically, this inevitable act occurred on my sisters 18th birthday, which she was able to remain sober for, for the entire night. If only I had been so lucky. She had decided to celebrate by having a party at our home, inviting friends and family. At the time, I had just turned 15 and so my knowledge of alcohol was widening and the beginnings of peer pressure surrounded me. Pairing this with a free range of alcohol available, without a watchful eye, what was to happen that night could have been easily predicted.

Whilst getting ready, I had no initial ideas of how the night would proceed. There could have been speculations in my mind that I would be able to access a fair amount of alcohol, being a teenager my curiosities were most likely at their highest at this point, so I don’t doubt that my agenda was along these lines. After having dressed myself in my carefully selected outfit, straightened my hair and applied my makeup, there was nothing left to do but to wait for the guests to arrive.

At the time, my sisters’ favourite beverage was Archers and so I too formed a liking for it. Therefore, the multiple bottles that had been purchased were at my peril. At first, I was simply indulging on said alcopop and I was able to hold myself with composure for the earlier hours of the evening. However, as the night progressed, along with pouring my own drinks, I approached my father on several occasions requesting a shandy, to which he, more often than not, obliged. It is no surprise that after a short time the effects of my cunning behaviour began to take its toll on my young body.

At one point I decided to take a break from driving my way through the guests, making drunken conversation, and attempted to go to the toilet. At first I was successful, but once I’d finished I decided to sit on the side of bath, at which point I descended backwards into the tub and found it impossible to escape.  As my boyfriend at the time tried to retrieve my incapacitated body from where I lay, my inebriation became blatantly apparent. He of course found it hilarious, but I was slightly perplexed about the feelings I was experiencing at the time. On the one hand, I was revelling in my act of rebellion, whilst also being confused by the unfamiliar sensations of being incapable of focusing, walking with stability or coherently stringing a sentence together.

I may be over exaggerating slightly; the level of my intoxication is definitely minor to the churlish states I have exhibited in the years since, but as this was the first time I’d divulged myself into the world of more mature pastimes, everything felt ten times more intense than it was.

As the alcohol continued to dilute my system, I soon became overwhelmed by the situation I had gotten myself into and so the tears began to fall. Completely unaware to the state of affairs that were taking place, my mother began to panic as to why I was so upset. At first I believe she blamed my boyfriend, who was just as baffled by my dramatics as she was, despite his knowledge of my intoxication. Luckily everyone came to terms with my current state and so the struggles to sober me up began. After water and toast had been spilled and flung across the floor, my kindred helpers decided their efforts were in vain, and instead, chose to simply witness the drunken existence of a fifteen year old girl. I was switching from hysterically crying, to hysterically laughing, with no explanations issued by me for my erratic performance.  As I’ve been told, every time one of my Uncles joined the madness, my tears would immediately cease, I would point in his direction and slur, “He looks like a monkey!” followed by fits of giggles. I cannot fathom why I found this so amusing, but I’m sure everyone was relieved for the few minutes’ peace before I began to bawl again.

During the time I was headlining my own one woman show, the party had begun to come to an end. Soon I found myself in a near empty room, as my audience had gradually filtered out the door. My senses were gradually returning to me and it was decided that the night was over and we should all commit to our beds, where I most likely fell asleep without difficulty.

The next morning you might assume that after my first drunken exploit, I would subsequently have to endure my first hangover. Astonishingly, you would be wrong; I didn’t have one. Incredibly, the first time I delved into the world of drinking, I suffered no consequences. Unfortunately for me, that would be the last time it would happened. I must have been blessed with beginners luck. However, that night is one that I have been constantly reminded of ever since. When attending family gatherings I often find myself the victim of sly comments in regards to my embarrassing introduction to alcohol. Despite my shame, I’m glad this was the way it happened. I was in a safe environment, with family and friends to pick up the pieces of my juvenile escapade, to which I am forever grateful.

And there we have it. My embarrassing, amusing and memorable instigation to a long and continuous tale of an alcohol infused life.