I lost my drink.

You know that moment when you realize you put your wine glass down some damn where on your way around the cocktail party and now it’s gone? When normal people lose their drink it takes someone who cares more about their drinking then they do to notice (i.e. “me”) to their “Oh, I must have put it somewhere, at some point” response. Inside I am hating their non-alcoholic attitude about this absolutely necessary beverage that should be handcuffed to them like mine apparently is. This must be common to “lose your drink” since some sassy, empty nester (I can imagine) invented the little Drink Labels that attach to your wine glass stem. Then all the sudden wine glasses are sporting these cutesy charms claiming “Sip Happens”, “Screw it”, “Wine Not”, “Liquid Therapy”, “His”, “Hers”, you name it. Until that became “lame” and not new anymore this was a strategy to claim your “beverage holder” so you wouldn’t “lose” it or get it confused with the other lipstick prints. If I ever appeared empty handed at a party then I most certainly had “lost” it for a short time because I never used the words “no thank you” when it came to drinking. If, in fact, I had misplaced my drink I may look ok, but inside there is an Amber Alert ringing in my head and I am in red hot pursuit of my “ba-ba”. Invent more than charms you drinking bastards out there! Can we put GPS’s on our beverages, trackers and little buzzers that go off if we are separated by more than 2 feet? I can’t tell you the panic I felt when this fermented fruit gets out of my clutches. I can’t talk, I need drink, put it in my hand, NOW, ohhhhKkkkk. Whewww. Close call…..Now where were we?

When I put my drink down for a photo-op or an attempt at plate holding I usually had one eye on my “drank” cuz that thing was the key holder for me to unleash the me that was attending this party. Nevertheless , I have knowingly forfeited my lower level wine glass for a neglected glass that hadn’t been gulped as fast as my poor wine was. “Oh here it is”… I said with glee, “this is my glass that is full” ….how convenient. Another thing that caused me panic was relying on a slow server or militant bartender. Nothing bothered me more than a 4.5 ounze pour from a pretty, well-meaning waitress. I hate those stupid low pours in the belly of a wider wine glass to bring out the essence bullshit. Just give me the wine weirdo. And top it off would ya? 

I seriously would get a rash around my neck if I showed up to some party and there was no one asking what I wanted to drink. I would

think WHAT the F… people, is this a party or is this church? Then, I have had the unimaginable happen when I was asked what I wanted and then they forgot or they died on the way back or something awful happened to my drink. I was usually less stressed at a house party with the Help Yourself bar set-ups that allowed the drinker to pour with reckless abandon, over pour in big cups, mix in max measures, visit the bar often without setting off any alarms….go BIG and not home.

Most people obviously didn’t understand the seriousness at which this drink mattered to me. The drinks were important, don’t mess with it. I would give restaurants a bad review if the server didn’t take getting me a drink with professional urgency. I would be completely amiss if I was standing there at a soiree with an empty glass and no one (in charge) took notice. I was frustrated with the rate at which others sipped their drinks. All of this is pissing me off just talking about it…. The Alcohol Emergency…. Wine STAT bitches. (it’s funny, but it’s not).

So, I lost my drink. Well, not really, I did lose something. I lost me. I lost me IN my drink. I lost me in my drink, that’s what I did. I did that.

When I was “with drink” I lost my integrity of listening. I lost my ability to really care. I lost my attention to what was taking place. I lost my interest in what matters. I lost my relationship with time and how precious it holds me in space. I lost time, so much time. I lost my glow. I lost my pretty eyes. The green faded, prob my liver screaming. I lost my honesty of what I was really dealing with. I lost my love for the simple. I Lost my ability to see the beauty in the mundane, the magic in the plain, I didn’t see a God damn thing except that velvet red in my glass….. never enough, never enough. And if alcohol were to continue to have me by the (brain)stem, then I was sure to lose. Like, lose everything, or someone, or more than I could afford to lose.

So I lost. I mean, I won. Because I lost my drink for real. Back in January. No, really, I lost my drink, like a ship at sea.


  1. no longer possessed or retained: 

    lost friends.

  2. no longer to be found:

    lost articles.

  3. having gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place, direction, etc.: 

    lost children.

  4. not used to good purpose, as opportunities, time, or la bor; wasted: 

    a lost advantage.

  5. being something that someone has failed to win: 

    a lost prize.

  6. ending in or attended with defeat: 

    a lost battle.

  7. destroyed or ruined: 

    lost ships.


Yep #7,the last one. Before it destroyed the rest of me, I lost it. Does it not seem ludacris that someone with this kind of obsession over alcohol can just lose the desire? Well it happened. And it’s happening and it’s a work in progress but worth every blessed minute of my precious time to save me from being lost at see. This excerpt is for me, but also for you. If you lost him or her, some damn where at that party, that time, then. You know the story, they were fine and then they weren’t, maybe that is you. Be FOUND my friend. Find yourself. If you are lost. Reach out. Don’t suffer silently.

Disclaimer: Like I always say, if you “Got this” you normal, non-alcoholic badass then Carry on! Cheers to you, seriously I will ting your wine glass with my kombucha because as you have now read, I wasn’t a normal drinker. I always wanted to be, but not my karma I suppose.

Happy New Year fine people living and doing the best you can. Sorry if I was rude or crass. I was. This was all part of the horror in my head when I was obsessed with the swill. I have compassion beyond because, dude, I know what it is like. My mission in life now is to help others find the way, be found. Not lost forever in the fog of booze.

This is a new year, and time for great change, and a change for great is due. Peace be found if you are looking.

Love to you, thank you for your time reading. 

↵ Back to Drinking Diaries