The first time it occurred to me that I had a problem, I was a pretty young guy. There’s something about getting your first taste, your first piece that does something to you. There I sat at the table. One of the things that makes it so weird is that it was my grand mother that poured me my first glass. I thought I’d only take a little. You, just to satisfy all my curiosities since that’s what all the adults around me were doing. Just a little. Yeah. Only a bit.

I only wish that was my first and only glass. Before long, I was getting a few glasses after work. You know, “Just to take the edge off”. Small glasses turned into large goblets of the stuff. I actually remember sneaking the stuff home from my job working as a bagger. I’d save money and when the time came, I’d get me some. I remember the looks that I would get. “You know, I really shouldn’t be selling this to you,” the cashier would say. “But… just don’t make a habit out of it and Be careful”.

Before you knew it, I was in my room, on the floor completely passed out from a drinking binge of my own creation. I distinctly remember waking up one morning with my clothes turned inside out and two empty bottles beside me. I was a little groggy but knew I had to clean up the mess and get into the shower before anyone knew what happened.

It was my dirty little secret.

Soon, it was all I was thinking about. I’d slip myself a little taste during breaks and especially at dinner.

I knew it was a problem when it was the first drink I’d have upon waking up. Plus I had several concerned family members sit me down and try an intervention. “I don’t need your help! I got it under control! Leave me alone!”. But no, they were right…I wasn’t controlling the drinking. The drinking was controlling me. I’d stop by my favorite place for happy hour. Ah yeah…the exotic kind flown in from overseas.

“I’ll have mine on the rocks and make it a double wouldja?”

Then the years went by, and I started to notice the damage it was causing my body. I knew I would have to let it go. I would have to quit. But could I do it?

I did. But every year at this time, I remember. And I can’t help wondering…if I had one more glass…would it really be so bad? I’d be lying if I said the temptation wasn’t there. But let’s be honest.

I’m simply an Egg-nog-aholic who chooses not to drink the stuff. My scale is thankful though my taste buds curse me.

It’s too late for me, but you can still be saved. While we’re in such a great Eggnog mood, click here for one of the best Eggnog Recipes, I’ve found thus far.

Update: here’s Part II of that recipe!