A Clever Fake

And its taste bittersweet

“I’m lonely,” he sobbed.

I heard him take a sip and then the sound of a heavy glass drop on the kitchen bench. Some 8,500 km east from where I lived. It was unsettling yet so authentic that I choked.

And when he started talking, I could hear his blurred voice, the tremor. He was drunk or well on his way into another realm. His dazzling expat-life had come tumbling down once more — this time with the onset of the pandemic and the uncertainty it withheld.

I imagined him sitting in an abandoned hotel that he simply couldn’t operate. It was void of guests but packed with an absent future instead. With zero to achieve but to drown the endless sorrow in a clever fake.

He — who could have been anyone anywhere in our increasingly disconnected world — is by no means an anomaly. And yet, we knowingly turn a blind eye or even two. Say a few reassuring words, suggest to empty the bottle in the sink, and then move on to have a beer with someone else.

Drinking is broadly and socially accepted, most people say. While abstinence is almost a crime.

Seriously?

The upside has a real downside

Who doesn’t buy them — these sly and inspiring boozing ads that are loaded with arousing images of sunny barbeque days, gorgeous sailing trips, family get-togethers, heavenly parties, a recreation of all sorts, and a great deal of fun. The perfect setting for a carefree life we’re all longing for, and that’s impossible to beat.

That’s the alleged upside. And a clever fake.

Because it isn’t all true. Because there are the other images we never get to see — the disturbing examples of booze-shattered dreams, broken hearts, and crippling existences. Images of intolerable pain, self-loathing, and (too) little willpower. Images of false promises and traps too deep to climb out from without help.

While we risk and often lose everything that’s precious, we hang onto the very essence that causes the jumble in the first place.

And that’s when life is ultimately no longer happy but an unfathomable series of a viciously repetitive habit. While the sun may still be up for the boozers on a golden day, the ease is long gone home. Those once bright times have turned into a flawed story with many shades of many greys. Until there is another toast to raise in an effort to escape the obvious for a while.

That’s the real downside. And no fake.

The thin line is a slippery path

Obviously, there’s a delicate line between these two sides— like a narrow mountain trail that either leads us all the way up to the top or sends us darting downhill in case of a misplaced step. Those who slip once, twice, or for some time to come may still limp to shelter. But for many, the day will come where a single skid turns into a giant flop.

That’s when we notice we’re hooked!

When we look back eventually and honestly, we notice that it all began with a goddamn habit. A little habit that fooled us into believing we’re inconvincible. We so much wanted to grow up, stay there, break away from the suffocating life-normal boundaries, and jump into fullness instead. A world of ultimate freedom and fun to which drinking often seems to be the only legitimate way.

Until one day, we’re possibly too far down the rabbit hole while still trying to maintain an image of something we’ve once believed we could control.

The taste is bittersweet

Just as my wasted friend on the phone the other day, this is a bittersweet reality we need to face collectively. A lonesome drunk wailing for help with a flask between his lips—characteristic for so many fighting the same gruesome battle—resorting to drinking as the first and last straw when nothing else matters.

When did we tolerate this toxic stuff to dominate our lives in such a profound way? When did we let it rob us of our goals, visions, and creativity?

Most of us still pretend that we’re in control. So do I. But the truth is, I’ve listened to so many rehearsed justifications (incl. some of my own) I eventually no longer trusted. Why would anyone buy yours?

While I can enjoy a glass of wine or beer here and there, I’m genuinely against painting an illusionary picture with a culturally accepted and implicit tolerance toward booze — allegedly built on happy, sunlit, and fulfilled lives where a bottle is never far.

This is no more than a clever but bittersweet fake, like so many others out there we’ve already bought into.

It’s a collective and a massive task — to brazenly shun the pros of drinking and weather the way-laying temptations — that no one should be asked to shoulder alone.

After all, it’s a clever fake that ultimately impacts everybody’s happiness.

Thank you for reading.

If you are interested to read more of my writings, you may enjoy the following one published in The Masterpiece.