5 Missed calls. All from the same person.


Okay. Fraser called. I wasn’t with him and his wife last night. I’m currently not living in the same town as my best friends. So it’s strange that he called. No voicemail though which is interesting.

I didn’t know it at the time but I know now so I can tell you. I was a couple of seconds away from a life altering, Earth shattering email. Again. Very futuristic.

The email went went like this:


What you did last night is unforgivable. I don’t want to hear from you ever again.

(Talk about freaking out? At this point my whole life was spinning out of control without me even moving. Suddenly I was sweating but also cold. Hands clammy. Head literally hurting. Stomach in knots. World ending type shit.)

You need to get your life together.

Until you do I won’t be contacting you. Please don’t contact me or Martha either. She doesn’t want to talk to you. We don’t want to see you. It’s over. If you ever get your life together than I may reach out to you to try and rebuild our friendship. But don’t count on it.

(This can’t be happening. Can it?)

I do feel partly to blame for this. I think we all do. For years we let you act like an idiot. We laughed with you. We laughed at you. Maybe we thought it was nothing major. You weren’t hurting anyone. Except maybe yourself. We should have said something before it ever got to this point.

But you are also responsible for your own actions. And you’ve crossed a line that should never have been crossed.

Again, get your life together. Do not contact me or my wife.





You need to get your life together.

You need to get your life together.

I read that line a lot. Over and over.

You need to get your life together.

Truer words have never been electronically sent to someone a week before Christmas after they fucked up their best friendship. I think that’s the expression anyway.

That was the moment. The earth shattering moment that changed my life.

A few hours later (after staring at the wall, crying, staring at the wall and crying some more) I was still holding my phone. Still repeating the line in my head.

You need to get your life together.

But how? How do I get my life together?

It sure seems daunting when you are standing at the bottom of that mountain. I simply need to get from here, rock bottom, to up there, Mount Life Together. Especially daunting as I didn’t really know how to climb. As I sat there taking that first step seemed incredibly scary. I felt really alone.

That was a very long day. The depth of my despair is hard to put into words. The shame, fear, loathing and disbelief couldn’t have been more overwhelming. It was like going through the stages of grief all in one day. And I did. I was grieving the end of two relationships.

After a long time of my head spinning I eventually asked myself a very important question.

What now?


I guess in the back of my mind I had always known my drinking was an issue. I mean, I did some pretty awful things. Some pretty stupid things. When I think now about how many times I drove drunk? It makes me feel an emotion that either doesn’t have a name or has one and I just don’t know what it is….like shame, regret, disappointment, and self-loathing were all tossed in a bowl mixed together and baked at 400 for 45 minutes. Voila! Shamregloathment. Yeah. Shamregloathment. It’s a thing now.

I know deep down it could have been worse. I have some issues and I drank a lot. I was black out a lot. I did some stupid shit. But some people do even worse. Which is something. Right?

There was a time that a guy I know drunkenly tried to fight a car window. The window won. Well actually they both lost. He punched through the window and smashed it to pieces. But those pieces cut his arm to shreds during the withdrawal process. And instead of seeking medical help for an arm which was sliced open what did he do? He ran. He ran so far away. Just took off running. My friends standing there looking at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world because let’s face it, in that moment, he was!

Apparently, he woke up the next morning floating in a river. Seriously. A river. Kind of half in the river and half out. Bobbing gently with the small waves rolling past. Arm in seriously bad shape. Head, I assume, in similarly awful condition.

How can you end up floating in a river and not remember how you got there? Walking home after having sex isn’t “the walk of shame.” Walking to the hospital after punching a window, slicing open your arm, running away and passing out IN A RIVER is the real “walk of shame”!

So I tell myself I could have been worse. I mean in reality a lot of people drink a lot and then do other drugs. Or assault people. Or do really awful things. I mostly did embarrassing things. 

There was the time I went to a fundraiser hoping to kick AIDS in the ass. I thought there would be dinner at this event, I didn’t eat all day and then I got there only to find out that, nope, there’s no dinner. I paid a lot of money and I had planned to eat enough to make up that difference. But no food. Just some nuts in a bowl on a table.

So what did I do instead of eating dinner? (I bet you know already!) I drank. I drank a lot. On an empty stomach. Like, I really drank A LOT. Each drink was a blow to AIDS. (I’m avoiding a terrible joke right now) Proceeds of my drinking were going to a good so I can’t stress enough I drank so freaking much.

My personal war against AIDS raged well into the night. Then we went to a co-workers house where we partied some more before I passed out. Then I was fortunate enough to wake up alone on a sofa in the wee hours of the morning whilst I was throwing up AND that wasn’t the only end out of which it was coming. But I didn’t wake up BEFORE this momentous event. I woke up during it! And then simply sat there watching the rest of the show. And what a show!

After a pretty futile and aborted effort to clean myself up using toilet paper and what seemed like 100 flushes I left the house. No shirt on. Under garments discarded. Pants wet and let’s just say…odorous. I wasn’t exactly in a top mood.

So at this point you are thinking that this guy needs to go home and get further cleaned up. Then re-evaluate his life. You’d be right. That’s what I SHOULD have done.

Instead? I simply drove straight to McDonald’s for breakfast. Obviously. Cause it’s no good being a drunk if you aren’t fat also! I can’t even imagine what it smelled like when I rolled down the window. That poor McDonald’s worker. I mean, McDonald’s workers? I’m sure they’ve seen some stuff. Right? They’ve got stories to tell. But a topless, hungover fat guy covered in all of his bodily fluids ordering multiple sausage and egg mcmuffins has got to be up there?

And when I say multiple mcmuffins I mean it. I used to order 5 or 6. So that I’d have a few later in the day without having to get out of bed. The egg mcmuffin is still pretty tasty at room temperature. I was less tasty.