"Desperately Seeking Sex & Sobriety" by Paul Pisces
(Sober Coach, Zurich, Switzerland)
Desperately Seeking Sex & Sobriety by Paul Pisces
A cautionary tale of Sex Tourism, Sex Addiction, Alcoholism, Drugs, Prostitution & Suicide
by a recovering alcoholic and
New improved! - now with over 9 years of sobriety
Sober / Sobriety Coach, Zurich, Switzerland
COMPLETE BOOK BELOW
It is early afternoon and I have just left my place of work for the last time. I am a 31 year old computer specialist and I am now walking the half mile up Bergholt Road to my semi-detached house.
My company car sits in the company car park and the keys are with my manager.
The reality is slowly sinking in that I have been made redundant after 10 years, 1 month and 2 days service.
The two consolations are the cheque for 16,263 pounds and the knowledge that the decision to make me redundant has probably significantly increased my life expectancy.
I say this because I am an alcoholic and the amount of alcohol that I am currently drinking is certainly verging on the life threatening. Prior to this event, the only possible method I had to reduce my drinking was to jack the job in. Instead the job has jacked me in. Thank God.
My calculations indicate that after I pay off my debts, the money I've got should last me about six months, especially if I can reduce my alcohol intake, but following that I will be in very real trouble. Maybe by some miracle I can find another job - one must live in hope.
Alcoholism is an almost acceptable form of drug abuse which consumes you physically and mentally until you can no longer find ways to hide your problem. In my case, oblivion was beginning to loom ahead of me but for this most fortunate of misfortunes.
01 Toilets & Knickers
I have my first drink when I am a rather inexperienced 16 year old. For the last thirteen years I have been living with my parents and two brothers in a village on the outskirts of Colchester and I have recently joined a local youth club in the town. At the club I find that once the evening disco starts, most of the lads mosey up East Hill to a pub called "The Sun" (which is alas no more) where the landlord has a reasonably flexible approach to the licensing laws and you can usually get a drink even if you are only knee high to a grasshopper.
As it is my first time in the boozer, I let a rather bolder, taller and more experienced lad order first.
Then it is my turn.
"What'll you have?" asks the landlord.
"A half," I reply confidently.
"Yes but what of?"
"Beer," I suggest but with rather less confidence.
"Lager or bitter?" demands the landlord.
I order lager and hope no-one noticed my gaffe.
After this success I proceed to pints and even spirits in the weekly binges in Colchester's town centre. After a visit to the pub, the disco is a lot less daunting. I might even progress to asking a bird for a dance eventually, but let's not rush things.
In the lounge bar of 'The Sun' I am able to pick up all sorts of useful tips. For example, a very popular drink with many of the underage crowd is vodka and coke. I think it tastes pretty awful but apparently the alcohol in this drink is virtually undetectable if a police officer should just happen to make one of his unscheduled visits. At least this is what I am reliably informed. Is this the start of my slide to surreptitious drinking?
Vodka and coke quickly becomes my firm favourite as I sit quietly at a corner table of the lounge bar desperately hoping that an officer of the law won't appear to interrupt my furtive sipping and the religious practicing of ordering alcoholic beverages in a particularly deep sounding voice - God hasn't my voice broken yet? I'm sixteen for Christ's sake. Perhaps it has - it's all the not knowing that's so worrying.
I continue studying A-level Biology, Chemistry and Geology at Colchester Royal Grammar School (which at this time is depressingly an all-boys school) with at least a modicum of success. The incredibly good news this year is that I become one of the three part-time Biology lab stewards (thanks to good old Roger Beatty - my biology teacher) and with the money I receive from Colchester Council for tending the school boa constrictor and other creatures of rather less distinction, I purchase a second-hand yellow Yamaha FS1E 50cc moped (known ubiquitously as a FIZZY). This allows me to attain a serious amount of independence from my parents, despite their judgement that I will probably kill myself. I nearly do. Several times.
However, now suitably endowed with a not entirely insubstantial method of propulsion, I am in a position to capitalise upon my new found, alcohol inspired confidence and my rather abnormal sense of humour. I've always thought I was slightly abnormal ever since I was eight and used to fantasise about tying up mature young ladies ( a contradiction in terms that I concede) in order to subject them to encounters with spiders and the like. But there again, men are basically peculiar beasts and a male human with a vivid imagination can be a very peculiar being indeed.
Deep thoughts of any substance have not really surfaced in my confused psyche at this point but I am fascinated by all things scientific and anything to do with toilets and knickers.
Going up the boozer of a Thursday night is still an interesting experience and some of the blokes I know have even managed to pull birds (with tits). I, unfortunately, remain an ornithologist; watching tits in great detail but not actually handling any.
But joy of joys, after many unsuccessful forays into the disco dancing throng, once the slow dances have started, with a polite "Excuse me would you like to dance?", I eventually begin getting the occasional acceptance.
Since that time I have learned of some rather more unusual opening gambits. One of my favourites is "Can I kiss your pussy?". Or for the really dangerously ambitious "Do you take it up the arse, darling?". However, for those interested, the most reliable opening gambit is thought to be "Can I buy you a large drink?" After a lot to drink there is a temptation to use the rather less successful "Would you like to buy me a large drink, love?" but this approach should generally be avoided.
Once on the dance floor with the girl, preferably vertical in the early stages, the idea is to maneuver the hands toward the buttock area and you can monitor your potential by how far towards the buttocks the hands are allowed. I always favour the right hand lead nestling in the small of the back followed by the unobtrusive buttock stroke to gauge the resistance of the opposing forces. Needless to say a double handed buttock clench is a dead cert.
The problem arising at this stage is that of nonchalant, confident conversation with a member of the opposite sex without getting a hard-on. After several not very substantial conversations on what flavour gum the girl is chewing, I decide to do some homework.
In many respects I am lucky because I go to Colchester Royal Grammar School, which is one of Colchester's best schools and I have got a good grounding in the art of study.
This means that when I decide I need to study the art of conversation, I am familiar with the process of how to go about it and I am confident that I will succeed, eventually, in gaining a reasonable understanding of what is required. Learning anything is a process. It can be defined in a nutshell as follows:
1) Decide what you need to know.
2) Read and study the available resources.
3) Formulate your hypotheses.
4) Test your hypotheses in the real world.
I happen upon a pretty old text (even at this time) called "How To Win Friends And Influence People" by Dale Carnegie. I think it was written in the fifties for budding sales executives but there is some useful stuff in it. The most memorable is his assertion that conversation often works best if you talk about or show interest in the other persons interests or problems. Simple really but it works. This isn't necessarily a recipe for smooth-talking or conning people (it can be) but if you are genuinely interested in someone then you should show it in your conversation.
One thing I discover from using this technique is that some of the girls I am physically attracted to, I am not compatible with emotionally or intellectually. Relationships based purely on physical attraction are normally doomed to be short-lived.
My school years are a success of sorts. I end up with three 'A' levels in Biology, Chemistry and Geology.
My school report contains the following:
"Both in written work and orally is inclined to be superficial at times."
"The level of his comments in class is still very superficial."
"Excellent. Considerable promise for the future. Well done."
(Good old Roger Beatty!)
"Progressing well though hardly to Oxbridge standard."
University beckons. Well, it beats working, especially when you don't know what you want to do. Oxbridge is out (see comment above). Veterinary school is out, so is medicine (results not good enough). Research in biochemistry could be fun. You know; DNA, the double helix, Watson & Crick. Go for it.
02 Where's Her Hole?
I load my aging purple mini (I had upgraded my moped the year before) with virtually every belonging I own. There is barely room for me to squeeze into the driving seat. I can hardly see out of the back window in the rear view mirror. Do I really need all this? Well 'be prepared' was our cub scout motto and prepared I am going to be.
I am 18 and leaving home for the first time to live in London. For an insecure country boy, this is a daunting challenge and I am quite apprehensive.
I picked Westfield College (part of the University of London) because you can live on campus for at least 2 of the 3 years, it has a good reputation for biochemistry and, if everything goes pear-shaped, I can rush home to mum and dad in about 2 hours.
After the drive down to the college, I finally collect the key to the room I am to share with a complete stranger. As I approach the room, the door is ajar and I can hear noises coming from inside. It is apparent that my room-mate has already arrived. He seems friendly enough and he is clearly a bit of a lad.
"Hi, my name's Mark. Hey, you don't mind if my girlfriend comes to stay do you? We won't disturb you. I'll tell her not to moan too loudly."
"Well, I suppose..."
"You've got a girlfriend have you?"
"Er no, not at the moment."
"You have had a girl though?"
"Yes, of course."
"Where's a girl's cunt then?" he asks smiling.
"What do you mean?"
"Where's her hole, show me."
I point to my crotch.
"Na, na it's not there - it's underneath innit, you know under there."
I move my finger further down.
"Yes, yes that's where I meant," I confirm enthusiastically.
"Don't worry," Mark reassures me "I'll tell my girl not to bother to visit... unless I get desperate."
"Yeah right, whatever you say."
Mark has arrived with a small rucksack and appears to me to be very unprepared.
"Have you got much stuff?" he enquires. "Do you want a hand?"
We go to the car and his eyes boggle at the amount of gear I've brought.
Surprisingly enough we get on well (he is another biochemistry undergraduate) and our "gang" is soon joined by two more biochemists. Marcus is a friend of Mark's from school and Paul is a quiet, shy guy I befriend at a lecture. Or does he befriend me (I am quiet and shy too - unless I'm drunk). Marcus is a giant. I am 6 feet tall, as is Mark, and Marcus towers above us. He must be 6'4" or thereabouts. Paul reminds me a bit of Bruce Springsteen. He is shorter (5'10") but well-built and brawny. I am the thinnest, only 10 stone but reasonably fit by which I mean I can clean and jerk my body weight over my head on a good day.
My new pals are impressed because I have a car and I am impressed because they seem more knowledgeable about life than me. Mark seems especially knowledgeable.
The car means we can easily get to parties at other colleges in London. The bad news is that I have to drive.
"You've just overtaken a plain clothes police car!" Mark exclaims.
"Are you sure?" I sputter, quickly taking the plastic beer glass away from my lips.
"Yeah, the coppers were in uniform."
"Damn! Get rid of this beer Mark."
We are well ahead of the police car by now so Mark opens the mini window and throws our four beers over some railings. I slow down.
The police car overtakes and flags me down. An officer walks over and indicates for me to get out. Oh dear! The driver's door is broken. I nudge Mark and he climbs out the passenger door. I slide over the passenger seat and out the same door. It doesn't look good.
"Evening Sir. Could you tell me what speed you were doing as you overtook us?" the officer enquires.
"About 45 miles an hour," I admit sheepishly.
"And what is the speed limit in this area, Sir?"
"30?" I suggest.
"Yes Sir. You were at least 15 miles an hour over the speed limit."
"Sorry, Officer." I look remorseful. I am quite good at looking remorseful.
Life tip: Always look remorseful when caught bang to rights by the cops.
"Well Sir, we'll let you off tonight with a warning but be more responsible in the future."
"Thankyou Officer. I certainly will."
The officer returns to the police car which immediately pulls away into the busy London traffic.
Yes, yes, yes! They must be too busy to worry about remorseful me. Did they see the beer? I don't know. It doesn't matter now - we escaped! (Correction: I escaped. I was the only one in trouble unless they got Mark for destroying evidence.) Off to the party!
Partying by now is a much more sophisticated affair than the youth club disco. We look cool (coolish). We drink either lager or barley wine (ugh). We know the form. Well Mark does.
The party is in full swing when we arrive with a talented reggae band kicking out some Bob Marley. With the barley wine coursing through my veins I am flying. After a while I spot a likely looking girl and make my move. I forego my tried and trusted opening gambit of "Can I buy you a large drink?" and instead say "Hello. Is this your college? I'm here with some friends from Westfield. It's part of the University of London." Anyway things progress well. I decide to have another beer.
In order to create a dance floor, the low-backed padded lounge chairs which normally occupy the room had been placed against the wall with their backs toward the dance floor. This creates a comfy place to rest, lolling with your bottom propped up on the back of the chair.
"Are you free tomorrow night?" I ask while slipping my arm around the girl's shoulders. I'm feeling a bit light-headed now and my coordination is giving me a few problems.
"I'm not sure. Perhaps I could give you my phone number." The girl is still sizing me up.
Yes, yes, yes! We're in. Just stay cool, take it easy and we're on our way. I decide to take another gulp of beer. It's a bad mistake. As my hand comes up, my foot slips. I lose my balance and find myself falling backwards onto the seat of the chair, the contents of my beer glass follow me. As I come to rest sprawled across the seats and half-hidden by the chair backs, I can see the prize I had worked so hard to win disappearing into the distance....
The first year continues with rounds of lectures, parties, drinking and finally exams. We view the list of passes posted on the university notice board expectantly, desperately hoping our names are there. Actually we are all just hoping our own name is there. Fuck the others! God is smiling on us and we are all destined to survive to year 2. After a round of hearty congratulations and celebrations we all leave the university campus and disperse for the holidays.
- Chapter 01 Toilets & Knickers
- Chapter 02 Where's Her Hole?
- Chapter 03 The Once Over
- Chapter 04 University Dropout
- Chapter 05 Fat-Bottomed Girl
- Chapter 06 Lynching Party
- Chapter 07 Votes for Death
- Chapter 08 Deja Vu
- Chapter 09 Brothel Diversions
- Chapter 10 Cue Prologue
- Chapter 11 Interview Hell
- Chapter 12 Eroticism on Legs
- Chapter 13 Politie
- Chapter 14 Drink the Puke
- Chapter 15 The Far East Calls
- Chapter 16 Hello Sexy Man
- Chapter 17 Fucking Crazy
- Chapter 18 Consultancy Sucks
- Chapter 19 San Francisco Millionaires
- Chapter 20 Californication
- Chapter 21 A Sad Story
- Chapter 22 Bang, Bang, Bang
- Afterword - The Truth about The One
- Author's Message
- Paul Pisces' Quotes
- Readers Comments
Alcoholism is a serious business.
It takes your life away before it takes your life.
Since writing my book I have lived through 4 jobs, 3 mental hospitals, 1 redundancy, 1 sacking, 1 rehab, several suicidal periods and finally over 9 years of sobriety after too many relapses to count.
The biggest achievement of my life is getting sober after a 30 year addiction.
The second biggest achievement is writing this book of my drinking career.
Maybe you can learn something from it (please read it below).
22nd June 2018
9 years of sobriety today - get Sober, get God, do Good!
22nd June 2017
8 years of beautiful sobriety today :)
22nd June 2013
4 years sober today.
8th March 2013
My god is a god of science, logic and mathematics.
Sober 1356 days :)
22nd June 2012
Update - still sober (3 years today).
My 30 year career in alcoholism brought me many things. The three things it didn't bring me were jail, homelessness or death. But I know those three things are waiting for me and alcoholism has a lot of patience......
11th December 2011
Update - still sober (903 days).
Recently finished my year as chair at the meeting of AA I go to.
I am now very comfortable with sobriety - I enjoy it.
Sobriety has required some significant changes to my life but they are worth it.
Now if I can't enjoy something sober I don't do it.
This applies to events, places, people, relationships, friends, work, leisure...everything.
If it doesn't work sober I change it or stop it.
My life is on the line so there is no room for compromise.
My main theme as chair at the meeting was "Sobriety should be fun, if it isn't you are doing it wrong - so change it...."
22nd June 2011
I still live.
And I have completed 2 years of sobriety.
The best years of my life so far.
26th February 2010
I am 50 years old now & celebrated my 50th birthday in rehab.
I am out now and recovering from the chronic alcoholism that nearly killed me.
Today it is good to be alive.
I am a 50 year old alcoholic with a 30 year addiction.
I am now 8 months out of a 28-day rehab.
Over the past two years I have been in 3 different mental hospitals.
I have a choice:
1) Drink and end up in an institution, on the streets or dead.
2) Don't drink.
At the moment I choose 2.
Successful recovery requires (IMHO):
1) A support group (AA, NA)
2) 12 steps or equivalent spiritual program
3) Realisation/Acceptance (Step 1)
6) Hope for the future
I am working on it....
Paul Pisces: There is a God
1) Consider the Big Bang.
2) Consider the Universe.
3) Consider the development of the Solar System.
4) Consider the development of the Earth.
5) Consider the evolution of Man.
6) Do you think this was an accident?
7) Consider your Birth.
8) Consider your Consciousness.
9) Consider your Life.
10) Consider your Circumstances.
11) Consider all those Coincidences.
12) Do you think this was an accident?
13) You are here, now reading This.
14) There are no Coincidences.
15) Get Sober, Get God & Do Good :)