Wasted Wingman (2 Eyebrows)

You and your girlfriend have been the best of friends, practically out of the womb. Both your moms went to the same birthing class and ultimately delivered within a week of each other. Plus, they were close friends in high school and lived in the same small town. So it stands to reason, you were destined to grow up together.

You have similar likes and dislikes, whether it’s food, clothes, movies, and even taste in boys. You are both physically attractive but in slightly different ways. You have very pretty faces, but she’s a bit more endowed, and you have always been known for your long legs. Still, neither of you flaunt your good looks. You are probably considered conservative, sort of “the girl nextdoor.”

So here you are, still together at 24, graduates from the same college and working at the same multimedia company in the town you were raised. You even have adjacent cubicles.  Oh, and did I mention you share an apartment and commute to work in the same car. You’d think you would be sick of each other by now, but not so. You even spend your free time together, mainly going dancing and frequenting the local pub, hoping to meet nice guys and fall in love.

But being that it’s still the same small town since the beginning of time, you know everyone and have basically gone through the same list of guys.  And unfortunately, none of them were Prince Charming potential. You and your friend are always commenting how husband material resides in the big city.

That might be true, but it’s all about to change. Your company is expanding in a huge way. They bought the farmland nearby and are erecting a giant office complex. The buildings are going up at a furious pace and job recruiting is securing plenty of young workers from the city.

Six months into the site development, and half the offices are already up and running. The small town is buzzing. The residents and business owners are thrilled with the influx of people. Construction companies are building houses and apartments, property values are going up, and retailers are making money. And the biggest improvement has come in the food and entertainment sector, specifically restaurants, nightclubs, and bars.

Your regular stomping grounds are no longer stale with local talent, so to speak. Young attractive men are filling the bars and clubs.  The opportunity to meet Mr. Right has increased exponentially.

Unfortunately, there’s something hindering your plans of late, actually someone. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your wingman, is inadvertently sabotaging your chances to meet your dream guys.

On a typical Friday night, you head to the pub for a quick bite to eat and a couple drinks. You and your friend dress fashionably sexy, but not inappropriately.  At the bar, guys often come directly from work dressed nicely in shirt and tie.  You and your friend welcome conversations with this type of guys. They are smart and driven, and they have something immediately in common with you.  Everyone is basically in the same field, working for the same company.

Ideally, if things are going right and you’re finding interest, you try to convince them to go dancing. Sometimes getting the book smart guys to hit the nightclub is more easily said than done. No guy wants to impress a girl with his manners and intelligence, and then later feel awkward on the dance floor.

Still, they usually get onboard and the night continues smoothly. Well, that’s until your best friend starts heading to the bar at a rapid rate. It’s been an alarming pattern for weeks. While you are focusing on one of the guys, your wingman is morphing into an over-the-top, drunken display of sexual confidence. You always see it coming, but you can’t stop her.

When the clock strikes 12, your friend returns from the bathroom with tons of eyeliner and cleavage for days. She might as well have put a signal in the sky. She enters the dance floor, followed by a trail of testosterone, tongues wagging and all. And like clockwork, the good guys get pushed to the back, and the bad boys take center stage. The dance talent usually improves, but the future definitely goes down the drain. And just because a nice guy also seems interested in you, keep in mind, the expansion has brought plenty of females to town as well.  And, they’re not the kind to get wasted and lose a couple buttons.

So here you are, half heartedly dancing by your friend and missing golden opportunities.  You fend off the aggressive guys and eventually get her home safely.  The next day, when your friend finally crawls out of bed with smeared makeup and a hangover, you are right there by her side, nursing her back to health.

Is this a time for Callemonit?  She is your absolute best friend in the world. You love her and would hate to hurt her feelings, let alone get in a full blown argument. You know her better than anyone. She is not the midnight metamorphosis she displays. To be honest, she’s basically developed a drinking problem.

You convince yourself that Callemonit is necessary for her health and the strength of your friendship. So, you wait for a quiet Tuesday night. You’re both sitting on the couch and have just finished binge watching your favorite series. You turn to her and say, “You know I love you right.  And I would never say or do anything to hurt you. But I can’t watch you continue down this road of destruction. What I’m trying to say is, I think you drink too much.  And it’s changing you.  And you don’t seem happy.  And it’s breaking my heart.”

You go on to explain how you’ve noticed more beer in the refrigerator, how she neglects roommate responsibilities, and how she’s falling behind in work.  And you remind her how you agreed to meet great guys, live on the same street, build big families, and grow old together.  You conclude with, “Please, let me help you.”

Her friend breaks down to tears. She cries, “I want you…I need you to help me.  I don’t like what I’ve become, and I especially hate what I’m doing to us.”

Needless to say, alcohol addiction is difficult to overcome, and the immediate future was not easy, but the distant future looked bright. This was a Callemonit success! Goodbye stress!

Do you find that talking about excessive drinking is difficult?  Does the fear of Callemonit outweigh living with the uncomfortable behavior?

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