One of the many benefits of unexpectedly becoming a single dad in 2016 was stopping drinking. I don’t mean as in giving up the deviljuice altogether, rather not going out every weekend with the inevitability that I would end up making a dick of myself, slouched over the counter of my favourite hostelry at 4am and slabbering over the nearest female.
Now, at the time I lacked the awareness of just how deluded and ridiculous I must have appeared to everyone around me. I worked hard and played even harder, paid my maintenance and generally was free to do whatever I liked, hence the predictable embarrassment of behaving like a 40 year old man-child each weekend.
When my kids came to live with me full time in March 2016, for reasons which are not necessary to explain here, all the above changed. I still worked hard but struggled to balance the pressures of my role with having to rear two confused children who had previously only seen me every few weeks. This meant giving up the carousing and cavorting like a whiskey-soaked, wannabe lothario. (I did mention the word deluded earlier)
In the intervening 2 years I could probably count on two hands the number of times I’ve been out and about. Honestly speaking, it’s not technically the alcoholic kerfuffling I miss rather the social interaction of meeting regularly with friends. Although I will admit to craving a pint of the black stuff every now and again, it’s certainly not to the extremes of the past. Four pints and I’m anybody’s these days.
It also explains why I thoroughly enjoyed supping on a genial bottle of red yesterday evening, on a school night of all things. Homework(s), dinner, dishes and all else family-related was out of the way and, you know, that feeling came across me where a gentle tipple would be an apt reward for the day’s efforts. The midnight hour came and went before the bottle was finished and wagging chins with old friends online, listening to tunes and generally savouring an all-round fuzziness meant for a beautifully chilled out evening.
Times that that are rare in the land of the single parent. I’m thankful for a generous landlord who supplied the Chilean Red as a gift for Easter. Inspite of all the trials and tribulations that encompass each day, it’s little moments like this that break the cycle of loneliness.
Add moments like that to the ongoing pleasure of creating Feck News, coupled with the people I’ve met as a result, makes for interesting times ahead.