The Anticipation

The waiting may be the hardest part….but the fulfillment of the waiting is quite grand.

Naturally, I’m talking about the first drink of the night.

The simple motion of alcoholic beverage from glass to mouth to ingestion is glorious.

The wrongs of the day…gone

The mistakes of the past….gone

The about to made errors in judgement….gone

It’s good to be gone….and that’s why I go.

I don’t go there anymore.

But to understand how I got to here (sober) from there (nowhere near sober), I have to remember where I was before I know how I got to where I is…..

You follow me? If not, keep coming back sooner of later you will get it.

I was a bar drinker (period). I love the crappy neon signs, the smell of stale alcohol and cigarettes. The dimly lit atmosphere of a hole in the wall 4 hour happy hour cover band starts at 9 continuous shot special having last call at 10 minutes to 2 am watering hole.

That scene was my Mecca. My place to find “it”.

I went in search for “it” as often as possible.

My favorite part was not the getting drunk…..although it was always the result.

It was the anticipation of the first drink of the night at “the bar”.

It was where I always went and where I could always be found.

“Where are you. Where are you gonna be at?”

“Just meet me at the bar”

That is all I would have to say.

I would get off work and rush home to change. I needed to be there. I might miss something if I didn’t….besides the earlier I got there the….earlier..I…could…fulfill….the anticipation.

I felt like I was somebody when I walked in the bar.

I asked for what I wanted. I got it.

Every time….with a smile.

I wasn’t the guy who screwed up the account. I wasn’t the guy who slowed down production. I wasn’t the guy who couldn’t do anything right.

I was a guy at the bar.

Slinging lies.

Wooing women I couldn’t woo.

Standing tall during happy hour.

Stumbling out after last call.

Go home, sleep it off.


Wake up tomorrow.

The anticipation begins….again.

Fast Forward to now >>

I no longer have that anticipation. My mind does not race nor does my stomach turn when I see others drink.

I don’t sling lies around for approval…although I am no saint.

I only have 1 woman I wish to woo.

Happy hour is time with the woman I woo and kids we raise.

I now stumble because I am clumsy not because of alcohol.

I anticipate tomorrow as a chance to be better than yesterday and today.

Life has taken on new meaning.

The anticipation is finally fulfilled.


10 thoughts on “The Anticipation

  1. I went into a bar Wednesday night. It was the first time in probably 11 years. It was your kind of bar. Which means it was my kind of bar. I liked that kind, too. I was there to see a friend’s one night show before he left for Nashville, home of his record label. He’s in the program, too, so I wasn’t totally alone. But oh my god, did the old feelings come rushing back. It was almost pre-packaged in some weird, hole-in-the-wall bizarro way. I probably would have bailed mid evening, but an immensely sexy man next to me at the bar started chatting me up and the next thing I knew it was pushing 1:00 AM and I was still there. I drank tonic water with lime. He drank beer. I hadn’t smoked a cigarette in 12 years, but I smoked one with him that night. If the guy hadn’t of been married we would have been all over each other. :::sigh::: some things never change. Its Sunday and I am still thinking about that night. Slippery place, friend. I need to stay sober.

    • My advice….wear stickier shoes to keep from slipping……romancing the what if’s and what might have beens is dangerously close to…well you know.
      Some things DO Change. The more you think about it and mull over it, the more attractive it will become. I need to be rich and famous but until I put work into it…I won’t be. Same goes for staying sober. At least for me, it does. Stay sober!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s