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Yeah, those were the good ol’ days. Or, so I thought.
Reminds me again of one of Mom’s sayings: “That’s where ‘thought‘ gets you.” You’d've all just loved my Mom. She was one helluva character.
The dirty s.o.b. first moved in and became a “roomie” when I was still very young. Being as honest as I can, I think it was circa my age eleven when I lost my virginity. After that he was on my case 24-7, it seemed. Most of what he concentrated on bothering me over had to do with sex and booze.
Of course, I had a life to live and I made what I believe is a rather gallant effort at being the best man I could be. I always strove for success and have never violated my principles in any business dealings. Nor have I ever failed any of my clients in any way, professionally or on a personal basis. Bill Cady has always been a model of integrity in that regard.
On the “sex thing”, I’ve never done anything depraved or violent, i.e., criminal in nature, although there are a few moments I deem less than shining. I can’t necessarily say I feel shame over ‘em, but there’s certainly no pride in them, either. (Details will remain mine and the women involved, thank you very much).
That part’s more geared to the intensity of concentration on sex and anything related to it. On more occasions than I can count I spent time “chasing babes”, (didja like the way I cleaned up the term for “hounding”?), when I should’ve been applying my efforts to my work. I stayed out late to get laid and occasionally left early for the same reason. Never once did I realize how hollow it was, the meaningless sex and an endless string of women in and out of my bed. One time I had a different woman every night for a week. If any female did that she’d be deemed a total slut not worthy of anyone’s time … but I thought it was a “badge of honor”. I even heavily experimented with the alternative lifestyle, i.e., group sex and orgiastic behavior with women I didn’t even know.
They all had to pass the “mirror test” and they were “qualified” to crawl in bed with me. If I put a mirror beneath her nose and it fogged up, she passed. However, that was eight years ago, at the onset of what I now term “the dry spell”.
The drinking, that was another story, similar in the stupidity. Even in the face of fifteen DUI arrests, all but one in Michigan, I kept drinking and driving. Sunday – Thursday night, although I usually stayed home and watched TV Friday and Saturday. Didn’t want to be out with all the “amateur drunks”. Yet, on the weekends I’d mow my two acre lawn, sucking down 8-10-12 beers doing it, so I was half shitfaced when I was done, anyway. Any-every part of my life involved drinking. If I couldn’t drink while I did it, I didn’t do it. Simple as that. Even when a vengeful woman cop began stalking me, I kept doing it. Hell, she caught me twice and I never relented.
Nope. I “got laid” so often and in so many different places you’d've thought I was a “demo carpet” sample.
Gave up drinking and driving after I moved to California, but I was the last customer Stroh’s Brewery had in California. I received Christmas cards for six years in a row from Kathy Hatfield in Stroh Customer Service. Special ordered through my grocer and they shipped it to my store. Every six weeks I bought 30 cases of 30 beers apiece. That’s 150 beers per week, 650 per month, 7,800 per year. Between 1990 when I arrived in CA and 2000 when I “reduced my intake” to eight beers per year, that’s roughly 85,800 beers I filtered through my kidneys.
You might say I was a drunk. Satan had moved in and he for damned sure wasn’t goin’ anywhere. Not when he had a sucker like me to work with. Then, when I wised up all on my own, (and with The Holy Spirit’s capable help), in 2000, that sucker got booted out. So, what do you think he did next? He set up a chair just outside my room and taunted me all the same as he had for many years.
What he didn’t count on, (I didn’t either; I just “got lucky”), is the fact I’d be homeless from 2005-2009. The fact I’d be forced to learn life isn’t a continuing party, a roller coaster ride in the land of irresponsibility. That I’d learn a man must shoulder ALL his obligations and duties, not just the ones he selects or those that appeal to him. He also didn’t take into account I’d hook up with a retired Jewish carpenter I call JC, or The Holy Spirit, i.e., The Almighty in street clothes.
But, I did. Thereafter all the BS I’d allowed myself to suffer over the years, all the stupid mistakes I made in the name of my Crusade to Get Shitfaced & Laid Daily by Strange Stuff, would become lessons for me. Lessons I learned very well. Tools I turned against Satan, who can no longer snicker at me behind his hand.
He who laughs last, laughs best. Ha-ha!
I’m just sayin’.
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