Driving Sober

Each day I collect prospects for the upcoming night. The only question I asked myself because it was the only one I cared about was “Whose place can I stay over at so I can drink while we fuck, and so I won’t have to be in my bed?”

Technically, I was drinking before I fucked anyone.

I would drive to the place of whoever the wheel of fortune landed on that night and park. I’d text the guys I was outside. They almost always came to meet me when it was the first time we’d met. Then, I chugged my 16.9 ounce water bottle full of vodka as fast as I possibly could.

That behavior, drinking so much vodka so quickly was dangerous for several reasons in and of themselves and I was very aware of them. I knew that if something went wrong and I had to leave I’d have to sleep in my car because I wouldn’t drive under the influence. I knew my judgment would be severely impaired any second and that I would probably do more than I was typically comfortable with in the bedroom because I wasn’t really there.

That is another thing about Blackouts. You’re present. But you’re not there. There’s a tornado that is wrapping you up tight as you fall further and further down it’s cone. Actually, that part of the tornado is called the “death zone” because oxygen levels and low temperatures make it hard for one to breathe. These interactions parallel the “death zone.” I don’t know where I am, who I am really fucking or sucking the dick of, and it’s often hard to breathe in those little moments of my Blackout when I am present and see the movie before me playing out. It’s like I know I’m the lead but I have no autonomy. 

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