I was twenty-one years old, had been working at the FBGC for two years and with booze as my ally, had been totally and indisputably single for 3 years. Showing up consistently hammered to parties and get togethers ensured that remaining single wasn't a real issue. When I would get good and loaded and would engage a female in conversation my main goal was to portray confidence that morphed its way into being an egotistical dildo. It was a genuine belief of mine that woman wanted a guy who was the quintessential egomaniac; someone who was dominant and not afraid to hurt their feelings.
Many incidences growing up I was told that you have to treat a girl as if you could care less about her, and every once in a while, throw some shade her way. I took this belief to the extreme and consequently, only had the esteemed company of my hand on most nights.
My stomping grounds after a pale of beer was usually "Nicky Zee's". It's where I'd chase woman and fail ninety-nine percent of the time. The
bar consisted of two levels, one was for lounging around and singing karaoke, and the upper level was for dancing and socializing.
On one particular night in the fall of 2008 at the dirty old Nicky Zee's, I began talking with a young lady named Mildred. She was shy, and ultra-kind; with straight blonde hair and sweet, innocent blue eyes. I talked to her briefly and attempted to go to coffee with her at 1:00am. Where we would have gone? I have no idea, it was the liquor talking, and in that moment there was only one thing on my mind. "Let's make love.... all night long... until all our strength is gone... until the sun comes up... let's make love". You picking up what I'm putting down? Excellent.
Like many other girls who I talked to at the bar while loaded, the next day I assumed Mildred wouldn't want anything to do with me. There were no attempts to contact her because my pride needed protecting; too much rejection going on, however with a stroke of luck, a few days after speaking with her at Nicky Zee's, Mildred's best friend contacted me and said that I should ask Mildred out on a date. I thought to myself "really? People actually consider me dateable?" I was under the impression that all peoples of Fredericton understood full-well that Ben Ganong was a total train wreck, and no, not the type of train wreck where the cars of the locomotive accidentally jump off-track and come to a halt relatively unscathed. My train consistently made god-awful screeching sounds and would make intermittent gasping noises as if it were desperately trying to stay alive, only to randomly blow-up for no apparent reason.
Mildred and I went out for dinner on our first date to a restaurant in downtown Fredericton. She was easy to converse with and not as quiet as I'd previously predicted. Mildred was what I'd call "school smart" and was in the third year of her Bachelor of Science Degree, Majoring in Biochemistry; which was completely over my head. Mildred had direction and seemed to be content with whatever was happening.
There are many memories where I can remember referring to her as the female embodiment of Jesus, because she was genuinely and whole-heartedly kind and wasn't driven my egoism or selfishness. You're probably thinking, "this proves that opposites attract" or ... maybe your thinking about the state of your brother in laws marriage, and have thus become bored with my book. I'm now currently doing interpretive dance while simultaneously humping a stuffed Teddy Bear that seems less than thrilled to be the victim of my thrusting. See what you've done! I had to resort to despicable antics to get you re-committed.
When Mildred was starting the last semester of her third year, I was beginning my first year at STU after being given "the boot". I figured starting off slow would be a good plan, just to see if University academics were for me. I took two classes; the first was some really boring History class about how to gather and evaluate Historical data without misrepresenting the content. The second was a Music Class focused on the history of the Classical Guitar. Turns out our Professor was quite the Guitar Guru and was an unreal Musician himself.
When the semester came to a close I had received a B- in the mundane History course, and a B+ in the Music Class. To me at that time those marks were highly prestigious because the year I was kicked out, my highest mark had been a C-. Who knew there was a secret genius within me!
Over the course of our first year together I was introduced to many of Mildred's friends. All of whom were welcoming and friendly with me. Her friend group enjoyed frequenting "Canons Cross Pub" on the Northside of Fredericton for half-price app night on Thursday. It wasn't long before her friends realized that I had a fondness for becoming wildly intoxicated. Usually, I'd order the spinach and artichoke dip while drinking some local British style ales. On most Thursday nights I'd drink the first couple beers for the taste and the enjoyment, but after that, beer consumption was based on price. When my bank account had a couple hundred dollars in it, I'd often buy the entire table pitchers of beer. I liked playing the hot shot who acted like he had cash to throw around; these actions were fed by a looming inferiority complex; plus, if you drank with me, those feelings of being an abnormal drinker dissipated somewhat.
There were many Thursdays where I managed to convince someone else from the table to come out to the dance bars with me. Mildred had two friends who were often down for some serious partying and would join me at the clubs. The two friends were a couple named Sally and Sam. Sam and I clicked instantly. There was a softness and a calmness about him that fit with my over the top hyper/manic personality while intoxicated.
Sam and Sally started inviting Mildred and I over for drinks. We'd play board games and video games late into the night. Nudity was a given, along with sexually involved discourse. Sam and Sally always had extra liquor at their house, so the supply rarely if ever ran out. I'd walk into their apartment with a twelve pack of beer and after I was finished consuming every one of them, I'd start in on Sam and Sally's hard liquor stash.
Sometimes we'd create our own trivia games, we'd play card/board games all with the added stipulation stating that if you lost.. you had to take a shot. This added specification meant that I didn't mind losing; bring on the shots!
Sally, like me, was manipulative and controlling of her partner Sam. She was suspicious and jealous of our friendship. She would often take stabs at me about various things I did in conjunction with Sam and I's iniquities and conglomerated sinfulness. Generally, we didn't get into too much trouble. We drank incessantly and sometimes joined forces in bickering at Sally, but it was all in the spirit of playfulness.
Truth be told, I just put up with Sally in order to spend time with Sam. I really enjoyed his company, and he never said a word about the amount of alcohol I was consuming. My favorite memories of him involve sitting on his living room couch, playing NBA 2k13. As you would imagine the loser always had to drink, but we were both guzzling during the match anyways, so losing was more of a hit to your pride than anything. He won more often than not I'm afraid. Sam was an unreal gamer.
With each weekend that passed, my obsession with alcohol began to steadily increase, it now seemed to consume my thoughts every waking hour. It felt like I was squeezing my fists, holding my breath and submerging myself in distractions to try and avoid the insatiable urge to run to the bottle.
If... key word "if" I made it to Friday I'd be the most enthusiastic, elated worker at the after-school program. The excitement coupled with a preconceived idea of how the upcoming night would go, made me a burning ball of energetic anxiousness. Once my shift was over, I'd run to my house, acquire booze as quickly as possible and start frantically making calls to try and piece a plan together. Even eating seemed like a pointless task before dumping poison into my gut. I thought that food would only ruin the buzz.
During a Friday night in the dead of winter Sam and I decided to go out to the bars together. Mildred was busy and Sam's girlfriend had decided to stay in while we went galivanting around the city. From bar to bar we'd hop, with me leading the way trying to find the remedy that would fill the void. Glass after glass, shot after shot only made me more restless, more obnoxious and irritable, I'd search the faces of passersby for someone to save me from myself; the answer to my dilemma always escaped and alluded me. Hell, I didn't even know what the dilemma really was at the time.
When the night came to a close, I asked Sam if it was okay for me to crash at his place, he and Sally lived in a four-story apartment building. He called Sally and she said that it was best if I just went home, but in my mind, and in reality, I couldn't, because a few days prior to our rendezvous that night, my Dad had asked me to go for a drive. Which, meant that he needed to talk to me about my behavior and my drinking habits. I always dreaded those conversations, because I knew I'd have to lie and say that I wouldn't come home drunk anymore, that he wouldn't catch me wandering around the house like a ghost.... sleep walking, urinating in random corners of the house, throwing up in the toilet or stumbling into any number of house- hold items only to fall into bed, fully clothed and totally lit up. He would tell me that he'd often check on me, put his hand over my mouth to make sure I was still breathing. These thoughts scattered across my pain-body and I told Sam that going home was not an option. I would sleep in the laundry room in his apartment building, wait for his girlfriend to leave in the morning, knock on their door and we could begin drinking again. He reluctantly agreed to the plan.
I may have fallen asleep for an hour or two in that stuffy, dusty laundry room. Eventually, I climbed to my feet and wandered upstairs, knocked on Sam's door and waited for a reply. It was obvious he was still in his apartment. My fist continued to beat off the side of his door. I got down onto my knees and looked into the crack at the bottom of the entryway and could see him plain as day, tip toeing across the floor, trying to avoid detection. "Sam I can literally see you walking across your living room floor, come open the door dude" I exclaimed, in a flat, matter of fact way. Despite the fact that he knew I had seen him, he continued to tip toe until he was out of sight. Hour after hour I waited. Wandering around the apartment like a lunatic. I was desperate to escape into the bottle with my friend, and hoped he would change his mind. When I walked up the stairs the final time, Sally and I met face to face. She was arriving home from work and was rushing to avoid me. I said "hey Sally". She received me with anger and impatience, (can't blame her) "what are you doing here" she said. I explained myself and she said that we could not hang out. She gave me some money for a cab home because I was broke and told me to leave.
I felt like my friend had betrayed me. I also felt like there must be something wrong with me, no one sleeps in a laundry room overnight out of desperation to escape reality; well, no one I knew at least. A couple of months went by before talking to Sam and Sally again. During those two months I refused to get drunk, the shame and remorse scared me away for fifty four days to be exact, although I did still drink socially.... it was awful.
During those fifty-four days Mildred and I flew to Calgary to visit my sister. Amy had since moved out West to find work after completing her Business Degree. She lived in a beautiful apartment building in a high-end section of the city and was working at a pub just across the street.
Mildred, Amy and I would run across the highway and sit down for drinks when Amy wasn't working. During one of those evenings it was karaoke night, I was actually sober and decided to brave the microphone. I chose "slide" by Goo Goo Dolls. It was always a safe choice for me. Some of my sister's colleagues said that I had done a good job. Ego officially stroked. It was during my awe-inspiring performance that Mildred starting getting texts from Sally. She was perplexed and bitter because Mildred and I hadn't contacted them for weeks. Sally became more and more outraged due to our lack of response to her messages, so her texts to Mildred started to become more and more erratic and irrational. All or nothing type texts of an infuriated nature.
A couple of days went by and Mildred and I had traveled to Banff to see the sights. The messages did not stop, and unfortunately, they were starting to put a damper on our trip. Mildred decided to text her back to clear the "Sally Cloud" that had descended upon us. We made our way back to Freddy shortly thereafter.