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[ Personal Narratives ]

Beyond The Bottle #1: Don’t Try To Make out With Your Boss

One of the chief problems that results from continued alcohol abuse is a sort of distorted reality. I perpetually drank and used drugs to shift mine failing to realize that other people didn’t necessarily do the same. Turns out, some people drink without the intention of getting fucked up. In my world, you loved me or were in love with me; in reality, you were showing kindness or affection and reaching out possibly because you cared about me in some way. I was forever in the business of confusing attraction and affection and it frequently got me into trouble.

Such was the case one night when I made a pass at my boss — a vice president of a fairly small company. Something else I failed to care about under the influence was your sexuality. It didn’t matter if you had a boyfriend or girlfriend, if you were speaking to me after 1am, I had a shot at sleeping with you—part of that comes from the false confidence alcohol seems to give you. I now understand that is crazy. It is INSANE to think that you’ll sleep with someone simply because you’re in their company after hours. But back to that night. I’d gotten myself primed at an open bar event with colleagues. Doesn’t matter how long an open bar is scheduled to last, I will triple fist until I’m black out drunk. That’s what open bars are for so that’s what I did.

It started off fun and well-intentioned but quickly shifted into something else. I don’t remember much but I remember getting into a fight over something, likely something trivial but back then, in that moment, something that seemed like it would end my world. This is something I was good at doing. Getting drunk and getting emotional/confrontational/violent.

My boss—we’ll call her Alice—noticed how upset I was and invited me to join her and the CEO of the company for a late dinner at Blue Ribbon. She placed her hand on my shoulder, or was it my hand? Either way, that slight sign of affection had stirred a different emotion in me and I was game for dinner and drinks which I would pay for with sexual favors later on, or so I thought.

The meal isn’t memorable much like every time i’ve found myself at Blue Ribbon after 1am — I swallowed fried chicken and sloppy sides and downed wine on top of a stomach already full of street meat and various types of grain alcohol that I’d drank at the open bar. Alice was making me laugh and making me laugh hard. I took this as yet another sign — she was flirting with me! Surely, we’d be fucking in no time.

I don’t know why I was bothering to wait. Blue Ribbon had a bathroom, I’d had something resembling bathroom sex before so I was ready to attempt it again. I snuck away from the table and retreated to the back of the restaurant by a coat rack near the bathrooms. I spied a busboy and attempted to get him to send Alice back to where I was standing. After two failed attempts (largely thanks to a language barrier but mostly due to my slurring and stunted motor functions) Alice appeared. “Is everything alright?” she asked, concerned that i’d been gone for quite some time. “It is now…” I slurred back, doing my best impression of fuck-me eyes but likely glassed over and shifting from heel to heel in a struggle to remain upright. “Let’s go back to the table,” Alice implored, sensing I was not right. Instead of listening, I just kept whispering, “come here, come closer, I need to tell you something…” For some reason, she did and as she got close enough, I lunged in to kiss her and was not surprisingly met with the palm of her hand. Like a tired mom she sighed and led me back to the table, reminding me how she didn’t like girls. She sure had me fooled, but to be fair after 1am, anyone had me fooled. Her tits looked amazing. I felt robbed. I realized I was dejected and even more sad than when we arrived (reminder: alcohol is a depressant).

If things weren’t awkward enough, the CEO wanted to know what all the fuss was about — he just assumed I was puking. With a straight face, Alice told him I’d failed to make out with her. She was of course flattered—something that infuriated me more, but due to professionalism and the fact that she was also sleeping with the CEO, and also NOT into girls, couldn’t allow it. I drank even more. I blacked out.

Coming to in a king sized bed which i’d pissed for the umpteenth time, I awoke with a massive hangover and that all-too familiar feeling that something had gone dreadfully wrong the night before. I attempted to piece it together but it wasn’t until I got to work that the CEO spent an hour recapping my night and explaining how people lost jobs over behavior like this. He related, had spent a lot of his time getting his shit together and cautioned me to slow down. In one ear, out the other.

That very night — I went to our company holiday party and did the same thing all over again. I came to in Newark, New Jersey without the slightest idea of how I got there. Figuring I’d make the most out of it, I continued drinking at the train station with complete strangers. In my distorted reality, it seemed like a good idea and while I did not kiss any strangers I cannot guarantee the thought didn’t cross my mind.