Drinking in the extreme is for some a rite-de-passage, where you go from the normal, decent guy, to the invincible one laughing with the devil, going through a black hole and out on the other side. You puke, you grab a pizza, you’re older. It’s part of being in-between being a child and being an adult.
It’s cool. You lose control. You’re close to death, you don’t care, you’re Jimmy Dean, and you’re back for more.
It opens the doors for you. You might be the one nobody notice, you might hear about who made out with who, you wonder what’s going on; you hear about parties, you’re not invited, you’re not in. What the f+ck, is this how you’re gonna live your life?
You take a drink, you take some more, and all the doors are open, and all the guys are laughing, and you’re in, you lose control, you’re cool, you make out with somebody, you don’t care, you’re immortal, you wake up, you’re ready to come back for more.
At school, people smile, give you a friendly hit on the shoulder, you’re the man, you took straight vodka, the blonde one seems interested – where’s the party next time?
Aside of the facts that alcohol is a very effective anti depressive, anti anxiety, anti stress drug. Really, really effective drug – and legal, and socially acceptable.
Of couse they drink.
It even tastes good.
Those are the problems.