It’s oddly controversial. It’s been said that only an alky or former alky can know what it’s like.

I guess we all really like to hold tightly to the concept of free will. And it’s a gigantic bitch slap to even hold the idea in mind for 1/10th of a second that free will isn’t easy.

I’ve had many periods in my life when I drank too much. As a younger man I was often a high functioning alcoholic. Then in my forties there were times when I’d struggle with moderation, and my motivation, mood, and capabilities were hampered. Then I stopped for 5 years. Lately if I drink too much its crazy embarrassing how stupid I get. The scariest part of it is I can’t tell at the time.

So even for one person, the relationship to booze can change. As I’m getting more senile, I’m not as sharp generally, and scary stupid inebriated. I’m desperately trying to get young-blood infusions, as this is a proven anti-aging technique that could very well help reverse the early onset dementia.

Early this year I had some desperate times brought on by betrayal by partners and employees. A horrible story I may never share here. And before that I also had a few spells of drinking often.

Here is how it works for alkys, and why I now believe that alcoholism is a real thing, and not just a matter of habit. You have a drink. Fine. Then you feel better – good even. Fine. Then of course you want more. Ok.

But then in the morning come the cravings. You just need a taste to take the edge off – to feel normal again. And bam, you’re on the circle. The vicious circle.

I’ve had it happen many times, and usually the attitude I would take is to just ride it out. Sooner or later I always stop. Somehow the circle has it’s own end.

But the last circle just wasn’t worth it. I had a great time, truly. But I also did risky things and said stupid things and hurt those that love me. And I couldn’t work effectively.

It was difficult this time to quit. I let valium help a bit, but had to eventually watch all intake of drugs carefully, including Ritalin. I imagined what it’s like in rehab. Cravings came often, and were easily triggered. The sight of a Circle-K reminded me how much I wanted a good beer. Evening time reminded me how nice it would be to relax and have fun with a drink. It took a few weeks of hard NO to every craving before the cravings died down.

And now I know that if I have even one drink – just one – I would put myself at risk for another circle.

I’ve heard that story many times. That’s a thing for a lot of people.

It’s helping that general stress levels are down, and that I’m no longer only surrounded by annoying and stupid people.

Which brings me around to another subject. The quality of sexual mates.

In my past I’ve been able to maintain interest and attraction mostly based on lust. It’s always been the case for me that crazy or damaged or mentally deficient young and obviously attractive girls are more likely to date a much older ugly man. I’ve not ONLY dated airheads, but I’ve held on to twisted girls and liked it as a general life strategy.

It was driving me crazy. With no Westerners in my life, and only airheads as confidants, I was going out of my mind.

Now I’m closer to an intelligent 26 year old. We’ve been off and on for a few years, and time has allowed her to blossom into someone I appreciate even more. We’ve been able to find our chemistry despite the fact that she’s not in the top ten of the hottest girl I’ve ever had. She’s quite in love with me, but despite that doesn’t play head games or deliberately try to annoy me. Very patient and kind, funny, generous, never the slightest risk for infidelity, hard working, likes all role play (especially hard core), and for 10 bonus points she even squirted for the first time recently.

This actually has quite a lot to do with drinking.

With a life more satisfying there is less need to escape.

It took time to be fun to be around when sober. The first month I was a miserable joyless ass. The quality of companionship makes it much easier to find joy without drinking it.


Some interns lived in my building, and could hear the various screams. Usually they were sexual, but sometimes I’d scream at a girl too.

It happened often enough that I had to ask myself if it was me.

I’ve never once come close to screaming at my formerly virgin V. It wasn’t (all) me. Some girls push buttons and sabotage communication as incurable habits.

It’s SOOO good not to deal with that anymore!