The wine would call my name…..

A restauranteur friend just emailed Mr D and said “I can get my hands on a stunning Central Otago pinot noir from a liquidation sale. Would you like a case?”

I told Mr D he should go for it. I asked “will having that case in the house make you drink more than you normally would?” He replied “Nope” and it’s true. He’ll stick to his very casual wine-drinking habit.

My husband is what you call a normal drinker – a ‘normie’. I am most certainly not.

If I had a case of wine in the house it would go down my throat steadily and heavily until it was gone.

I went through a stage a few years ago when I decided it was silly stopping every night on the way home to get a bottle of wine … so I started buying cases at a time instead. It wasn’t a plan that lasted for long. Having a case of wine in the hall cupboard was just an invitation for me to drink more. It called to me. I could hear it call my name. I couldn’t take my mind off it. So I’d drink more than usual every evening until it was gone.

I was aware of this… and didn’t like it (back then the sober person hidden deep inside my boozy body must have been having a slight bit of influence.) I didn’t stop drinking at this point – no way! I just reverted back to buying on the day what I would consume that night.  It was a vague attempt at moderation I suppose. Except slowly I just started buying more each day to fulfill my need.

I continued like this for another 8 or so years (until things got so bad I pulled the pin and got sober). I’d buy on the day what I would drink that night. There was no building up a booze collection in our house. Any special gift bottles didn’t last long. They always bloody called to me. Bottle of duty-free gin from a friend? I’d go on a G&T kick until it was gone. Three-quarters of a random bottle of liqueur left over from a party? Gone quick-smart.

Even if there was a leftover bottle of Sauvignon in the fridge from the weekend, I’d probably drink it on a Monday night. I didn’t even like Sauvignon! But it was booze and it was in the house so it would probably go down my throat.

This is why I’m an alcoholic. This is why I’m sober today.

But as I say, Mr D isn’t like me, so why shouldn’t he take advantage of this good deal? He’ll pop his wine in the hall cupboard and it will lie there mute until he decides to drink it. It won’t call his name. His brain isn’t wired for the wine talking. And honestly, it’ll probably last him at least six months.

And how will I be with that wine in the house? Totally fine. I don’t touch that shit any more, and I’ve re-trained my brain to no longer hear it’s call. It has no power over me.

Love, Mrs D xxx