Tag Archives: drunk

Drunken Text Messages

I did not start to read my father’s drunken text messages until I woke up the next morning to find more, and more were coming as I was looking at my phone.  He only sent five over the course of the night when I slept and when I woke up, I received 24 more text messages.  So, I decided to start reading to see what he had to say.  Naturally, the texts were jumbled with misspelt words, but I could still figure out what he was saying.

The text messages started out civil.  My father told me that he wished us the best and that I did a good job exiting the house.     After a few hours he started to talk about how I “s**t on him and chose ‘the girl'”.  The Girl, “let’s just call her that for now”, he said.

He told me I did him wrong and I have “disappointed him beyond belief”.  However, he changed his tone a half hour after he said that.  He told me that I was the “most respectful of all”.  This was probably because he started focusing on my girlfriend again.  He told me “Forget the girl, I saw you doing the laundry, doing cooking, doing everything. Trust me guy, you are working up a slippery slope.  Dump her ass!”

Is it wrong of me to help my girlfriend carry a heavy laundry basket down the stairs, is it wrong of me to help my girlfriend out with all the chores around the house?

“Save yourself from regret.  Save your good part from her”.  How did he become so angry at someone who cooked for him, cleaned his house and was nothing but nice to him the whole time she lived there?

After a while, the texts just started to blur together and become one insult after the other or a “smart” one-liner that he probably thought was clever.  It was like he was typing out this thoughts in the form of a text message.


Moving Day

A few days later, my girlfriend and I went back to the house to gather our things and load up our truck with what we could for the next two days.  My father was in the living room watching TV on the first day.  It was a little awkward because my father had just started drinking for the day, so he was relatively sober.  We had to take a few trips to the car and back through the house.  My father did not say a word to us.

When the car was packed to the brim, and as we were closing the trunk, my aunt walked up the driveway and asked us where we were going.  “He kicked us out”, I replied.

“What?” she said

“He kicked us out,” I repeated.

“Where are you going to go?”

“We don’t know”.  I did know where we were going, but I did not want my father to know.  I did not feel he had the right, plus my father has threatened people with violence before (somethings I did not want to include in this blog) and I did not want him to start anything with me or my girlfriend.

The next day, my father was not home.  We took advantage of this time and gathered as much of our belongings as we could.

Finally, it was the final moving day.  My girlfriend and I and a friend, rented a moving truck and headed over to my fathers where we were to pick up our couch, bed, and other large furniture so we could finally leave this place for good.  My father was on the couch, and was very pleasant to my friend whom he knew.  Not to mention, he was really drunk.

I’m assuming he did not want my friend to see him for who he really was because my father retired to his bedroom.  I’m also assuming he was turning in for the day as it seemed like he was drunk enough to have drank all night long (plus, there was an empty case of beer thrown on the counter, which proved my assumption).  So, we loaded up the truck swiftly, and left.


One Rainy Night Part IV

I know that you should never try to talk to an alcoholic when they are drunk.  I know they will deflect their problems on you or onto other people so they can continue to drink, guilt free.  I know he wasn’t thinking clearly and that he wasn’t listening to me, however, that night, I felt that I had to tell my father how I felt.  I had to make my last attempt to try and make him see that his drinking has caused problems in our family.

Back to the story, my father started to talk badly about my girlfriend, or “the girl” as he called her.  He said that she was not good for me, that she lives in some kind of “bizzaro world”  and is taking me down with her.  On a change of subject, he continued to tell me that I am different because of her, that I am less of a man, that she is no good for me, she is using me and she will never be happy with anything I could give her.  (Honestly, would any girl still be with me after all we had been through?  Any other girl would probably leave me after living in that house for as long as we did).

Naturally, I stuck up for my girlfriend, but I also told him that regardless of what he thought, the point of this little “chat” of ours is about how badly he needed help.  He just shrugged it off and said “OK, that’s your opinion”.


One Rainy Night Part III

After about a half hour, my father got off the phone with my aunt.  My girlfriend was painting her nails for the wedding that we were standing up in the next day.  It was getting close to midnight and we needed to get some sleep.  However, my father was standing at the bottom of the stairs and said “We need to talk”.

So, I went to the top of the stairs and he said “you and your b***h girlfriend and your f***ing dog need to get the f*** out of my house” and walked back to the living room.  I followed.

My father repeated his threat and said “I don’t know what you are going to do, but you and “the girl” (the new derogatory way he referred to my girlfriend as) need to get out of my house as soon as possible”.  I told him that is fine by me, but I had to say my peace.  I did not  try to argue with my father, but I made my last attempt to get through to him.  I told him that his drinking has had a huge impact on all the relationships he had with everyone in our family.  From my brother to my mom to me.  To his sisters and brothers.  Everyone knew he was an alcoholic and did not want to see him this way.

Of course, pointing fingers at my father when he was already drunk made him want to point fingers at me.  My father decided to play the “there is nothing wrong with me” card and turned the tables over onto my girlfriend.


One Rainy Night Part II

I followed my girlfriend and my dog upstairs and once we sat down in our office to check emails we head my father throw a giant and very loud temper tantrum.  Of course he was drunk.  He was shouting obscenities such as “F*** dogs”, “Dogs ruin my life”, “F*** this, F*** that”.  And that continued for about five minutes until we heard him retelling the story to my aunt on the phone.

According to my father, it was not raining that hard.  In fact, he said he went outside after we went upstairs, looked up to the sky and held his hands out and it was barely a sprinkle (yeah, by that time!).  He told my aunt that we were just using our dog as a scapegoat for all our problems.

Then he started to talk about my girlfriend, again.  He said my girlfriend had a snide tone when she called our dog upstairs and he was sick of her walking around with her smug attitude (then mocked her).  He mentioned that she treats him like a dog by leaving food on the counter for him to get himself instead of serving him and he also said “along with all the other things she does that I have told you about”.

He also said he wanted me to come downstairs and hit him so he could call the police to throw me in jail, “right where I belong” (I have never had so much as a speeding ticket, by the way).  There was also talk about how this situation will not work out because he was a stranger in his own home.

Finally, I heard him tell my aunt that having a family did nothing for him.  Getting married, did nothing for him.  Having kids, did nothing for him and he regrets it all.


One Rainy Night Part I

One night, my girlfriend and I were at a rehearsal dinner for our friend’s wedding (that was the next day).  We had been out for quite a few hours and throughout this time there had been a constant stream of light rain.  On the drive home, the rain seemed to pick up a bit and my girlfriend mentioned that she hopes that my father did not leave our dog outside.  As I have mentioned before, my father has a track record of letting my dog out to go to the bathroom and forgetting about her.

When we pulled up the driveway, we could see my little dog in the backyard hiding under the patio table.  We sat in the car for a minute or so (not too long!) to see if my father would let her in.  No one came to the side door.

So, my girlfriend and I opened the garage, let our dog in with us and waited about five minutes more to see if my father would let her in.  Still, he did not come to let her in.

My dog’s fur was damp and it seemed like she had been outside for a little while, but it could have been hard to tell since we did not know how long she was under the patio table trying to stay dry.  This angered me that my father would do something like this, which is, leave a little 9 pound dog outside in the rain after I had specifically told him that he does not have to let her out and that I would take care of it.

As we walked to the side door to go inside I assumed he was drunk and forgot about her.  But, when I approached the door, something made me think that he intentionally left my dog outside.  When I tried to open the door, the door was locked!

My father came straight to the door.  He said, “Sorry, I thought you were at a wedding”.  Immediately, to my surprise, my girlfriend said “that does not mean you can leave our dog outside in the rain all night”.  I assumed my girlfriend was thinking the same thing I was: that my father let my dog outside with no plans of letting her in.  We were gone for the night, so that gives him free reign to let my dog outside all night so he could relax in peace without her “bothering” him, right?

My father must have been in shock that my girlfriend said something to him because he did not reply.  My girlfriend and I just walked past my father and took our dog upstairs to dry her off.

 


Special Delivery: Part 2

I am ashamed to admit that there was one time, and one time only that I bought my father his whiskey.  I felt like I did not have a choice because my father was extremely drunk on this day, he could barely talk and could not even call my name or tell me what he wanted from the store.  I was in the basement watching TV when my father called my name and mumbled some other words I could not make out.

So, I went upstairs to see what he wanted.  It started out that he wanted me to go buy him a pack of cigarettes.  After I agreed and he handed me the money, he thew in that he also wanted a pint of whiskey.  I did not want to buy the whiskey for him!  I paused for a moment trying to think of a more polite way to say, “are you out of your f%$*&#g mind?!”  I was extremely angry that he would even ask me to do such a thing and before I could respond he just said “never mind, I can go get it myself”.

So, there it was.  Buy the whiskey for my father or let him drive drunk to the corner store.  When I got to the store, and and placed my father’s order, the clerk said, “you must be (my father’s name)’s son.”  That was it for me, the last straw.  I was extremely embarrassed and I was infuriated at the entire situation.  I did not even reply to the clerk and walked out the door after I bought my father’s cigarettes and whiskey.

When I brought the cigarettes and whiskey back to my father, I told him to never ask me to buy the s#*t for him again.  He started crying and I walked away.


Is Today a Good Day?

One day, about four months after the incident on Christmas, my father had asked me if I would live with him to help him out.  Given that things had been quiet in the last few months, I thought it would be safe enough to help him until he got back on his feet.

When I talked to my mother about this she thought it was a good idea.  She thought it would be good for my dad to have some company in hopes that he would overcome his depression and be able to move on with his life.  A part of me believed this and had high hopes that he was only drinking more because he was lonely.

So, the lease on my apartment still had a few months to go and my girlfriend and I decided to move in slowly.  We would bring over a truckload of our belongings almost every weekend and when I would tell my father in advance that I would come over to drop by some things, he seemed fine with it.  The tricky part was actually getting our belongings in the house.  Not because there was not enough room but because at the last minute my father would call me and tell me it was not a “good” day to bring stuff over.

He acted like I did not know he had a drinking problem and that if he was too drunk one day, he did not want me to see him.  Therefore, I could not come over to bring my things.  Finally, it was getting to be too much.  As he was telling me that today “was not a good day”, I asked him if any day would be a good day.