Marquise de Merteuil, Dangerous Liaisons
Apparently not true - at least not when it comes to getting drunk. I woke up in bed this morning with a duvet, a dog named Giggy and a good dose of shame. Despite the time being only 5.30am, Husband was not in position, leading me to imagine that Dick Vanderpump had paid a visit the previous evening.
During my days as a young, thrusting City gent, I did my fair share of drinking. A "work hard, play hard, be a complete tosser" attitude meant that over-indulging in alcohol was accepted, manly and a well used release mechanism to counteract all the stress involved in earning vast sums of money.
In reality, of course, the momentum of some money-making institutions meant that making the money was not as hard as some in the industry liked to suggest, and as we are all discovering now, it is even easier to lose.
Most roles in sales and trading involved having the ability to pick up two telephones at the same time and so left plenty of time for drinking. I was once offered a job as a sales trader. "There's a job you can do with a hangover - go for it", said one of my colleagues.
There was never any shame in being heavily inebriated, provided you could turn up the next day at the 6.30am morning meeting looking like nothing had happened. Think "coffee", think "mints", think "fake interest in what went on in the markets overnight".
Since leaving the financial industry, I have continued to drink alcohol. Being British, living in London and having no dependents is the "perfect storm" when it comes to alcohol consumption. Add to that the luxury of not getting up early for the morning meeting and voila - everything is in place.
So what could possibly upset this perfect equilibrium of conspicuous consumption? Well, the apple cart has not been upset completely but it's certainly shaking a little bit. There is a pattern of behaviour emerging that apparently has a flagrant disregard for Hubby's commitments to his work and right to a relaxed home environment.
This pattern involves the arrival at some point in the evening of an obtuse, uncooperative alter ego named Dick Vanderpump. I go out as Dave and come back as Dick. Dick is frequently and unfairly inflicted on my husband - a captive, sober, reluctant audience in his own home. He must be stopped.
Dick can be seen exhibiting the following behaviour:
1 - Shouting "baby baby ... baby!" as he returns home but before he has got to the front door
2 - Demanding almost constant attention once inside the house
3 - Wearing his coat on the sofa, with the hood up, refusing to take it off
4 - Shrugging his shoulders when spoken to
5 - Smoking inside the house
6 - Feeding the dog wine gums
7 - Demanding drinks (usually vodka-based)
8 - Speaking in words of one syllable
9 - Falling asleep on the sofa
10 - Do we need a 10th point here?
"You'll find the shame is like the alcohol, it keeps coming and it just gets worse"
Dave Vanderpump
"Go on, have a drink"
Dick Vanderpump
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| Alcohol: Together We Can Overcome |
