DEBAUCHERY

de·bauch·er·y   /dɪˈbɔtʃəri/ Show Spelled[dih-baw-chuh-ree] Show IPA

noun, plural -er·ies. 

1.       excessive indulgence in sensual pleasures; intemperance.

Synonyms: 

bender, binge, blowout, burning candle at both ends, bust, carousal, depravity, dissipation, dissoluteness, drunk*, excess, fast living, fornication, gluttony, incontinence, indulgence, intemperance, intimacy, la dolce vita, lasciviousness, lechery, lewdness, license, licentiousness, life in fast lane, lust, orgy, overindulgence, revel, revelry, seduction, sensuality, sybaritism, tear* 

Antonyms:

benevolence, giving, mercifulness, unselfishness 

Nothing seemed more real to me up until this very moment.  Everything I had done was leading to this breaking point.  I stood at the bathroom sink, covered in my own puke, my eyes were bloodshot, nose bleeding, and it wasn’t until I made eye contact with MYSELF in the mirror that I realized I had had enough.

Prior to this I spent 15 months straight binge drinking and partying, I drank until I puked and then drank some more. I would pick someone from anywhere and set out on the hunt, I screwed anything with a pulse and fucked my way in and out of people’s lives. Even going as far as driving their husbands’ cars and bringing them back with no gas and smelling of cigarette smoke.  I did not give a rats ass.  And why should I have, I wasn’t going to deal with the consequences of HER actions.  I would date women only for them to find out I was fucking their friends and one time even a sister. I broke countless hearts, charming my way in and earning their trust, only to use them and toss them aside.  I hid everything about myself from them all, leaving my wallet in my car and only carrying a credit card, and never allowing them to see receipts with my name on them.  Not allowing too many of them to see my home, or even know my real name or my actual self. Promising them the world only to vanish without a trace. I always tried to avoid relationships but a part of me would fall for her.  Not truly wanting to hurt her, I knew deep down I eventually would. It seemed inevitable and no matter how much I fought with myself to avoid it and be a decent person, I always seemed to fuck it all up only to brush it off and allow the vicious cycle to continue.  It doesn’t help that Im a narcissist either.

To my friends I was a ghost, appearing only when the music was loud and the beer was cold, only to leave with a lady or 3 in toe, drunk, high, and happy.  To others I was an animal with no limits, slowly presenting my true self and leaving the former way behind. I had a rule; never shit where you sleep, and I methodically broke it.  I would cruise the streets, late into the night, find a random hole in the wall and begin.  The craving for all things pleasurable was strong, and the appetite only grew as did the price.  Little by little it broke me down and tore me apart.

It all began with a little curiosity in a strange new place.  Once I adapted to my surrounding, I began to explore.  With plenty of money in my pocket and a lust unlike any other, I set out.  I slowly stopped showing up at local parties on Friday nights, to returning to work Monday morning reeking of sex, cigarette smoke and booze.  I showered there and kept it moving.  After a little time I escalated to weekend trips further and further away just to find a new setting and even more adventure. 

My drinking had always been an “issue” with others.  I’ve never been an angry drunk but I had a tendency to flirt and charm my way into trouble. Once, while drunk of course, I slept with one of my bosses daughters…only to wake up upon his arrival and fleeing the scene leaving behind my wallet…which he returned to me after almost drowning me in spit and attempting to throw me out a window. I kept a bottle of peppermint schnapps in my office; I carried a Gatorade bottle full of vodka and a case of bear in my trunk. The smell of course lingered and questions were starting to be asked and once aware of this I did a better job of keeping a low profile.  But it was no secret I like to have a good time and be the life of any party.  Always dapper if seen after work with a wardrobe so big I had to use my trunk after filling a giant walk in closet, driving the finest car my money could buy and outfitting it with a Louis Vuitton interior (100% authentic), and even going as far to having a membership to almost every big name hotel.  I invested well and so with more money came more chaos.  Thinking back now, I have no idea how I survived.  Everyone loved me; I felt it and I knew it.  My entourage began to move from daily drinking and other shenanigans to something a little different.  I was apprehensive at first and often leaving when it was present. 

I hated the thought of even being associated with IT, and wanted nothing to do with the stuff. One night, after returning from a house party and wiping the “bar” out I wandered to a friend’s room and saw his door unlocked.  It wasn’t uncommon for us to hang around one another’s rooms while the respective party was away. After watching a little TV I had to take a piss like no other, I ran to the bathroom and knocked over a candle with a false bottom and there it was. Covered in the shit and drunk off my ass I indulged and I was feeling too good.  Everything was so damn amazing and I felt so alive, I cleaned up the mess and scurried to my room, avoiding any route that would lead to other people.  Once alone I had the strange urge to fuck.  I called over a two women and explained to them what was going on and to my surprise they joined in the festivities.  After an hour of talking and watching their hands caress each other and embrace me, I decided to play a porno…BEST IDEA EVER. We fucked for what seemed like days, every nerve burning to the touch with an almost crippling intensity. I cut through them both like a hot knife through butter. They came and came and came some more, never satisfied but aching and throbbing with pain we continued for what seemed like days.  After the perpetual fuck fest we were still wired and alive.  We had a few drinks and talked a bit and I showed them to the door.  I was now alone and I thought to myself, “that shit was unfucking believable”. I immediately called my buddy for my own supply and he supplied me with enough to last a lifetime, no questions asked.

I rallied the troops which consisted of about five or six gents and told the story, to their amazement and utter disbelief, I unveiled the treasures of my conquest; cum drenched sheets, two pair of panties and several used condoms.  Now, I had always been the filthiest of them all.  Having no limits to my desires, often keeping a pair of panties as a memento, with the owner’s permission of course.  The collection was kept in my closet along with every empty bottle of vodka I had ever had the pleasure of consuming.  This was no secret to anyone who knew me and I was often described as pure filth.  But it was all in good fun, and from that day forward the escapades would take a devastatingly mind altering turn for the worse. This would be repeated over and over again. Sometimes I would get 2 hours of sleep and immediately go out again right after work. Once pulling over because of extreme exhaustion and immense internal pain on the side of the freeway to sleep.  I lived hard and played hard.  Every endeavor more satisfying than the last.  This continued for months. I lied, cheated and alienated even my closest friends. People who loved me and knew there was some good left.  But I turned a blind eye and staggered away drunk and in a euphoric state. I was unstoppable in every sense of the word and bound to hit a wall eventually. We lived like rock stars and became nocturnal, sleeping the day away dreaming of that night. 

I reached my breaking point while looking for gifts to bring to a friend’s baby shower I decided to get my car washed, I happened upon a local carwash featuring a minor league football teams cheerleaders.  I had been drinking a bit and was a flamboyant sweet talker, they immediately fell in love.  Being the business savvy individual I was, I spoke to their manager and convinced him to let me use them for a carwash where my organization would keep the profits, as long as we allowed them to sell their energy drinks for the day of the carwash.  I met each and every one of the ladies and introduced myself and so it was planned.

Two weeks later, we kicked of the carwash.  It was 90 degrees all day and the ladies worked nonstop bringing in $11,000.00 for “us” and selling 30 cases of their energy drink.  It was a success and everyone was happy. I decided we should celebrate and threw a party for them that night.  My intentions were geared towards each and every last one of them (even the one with the C-section scar) to be naked and mine.  Later that night they arrived in their tour bus and it took me 2 hours to get us all wasted.  About 100 people were present, 70 women or so and about 30 guys.  I had a little bit of the good stuff and BAM, I was superman.  I felt like GOD. And I thought I was.  I introduced a couple of them to the product and we wondered off into the heavens.  They were bursting with so much happiness and I loved every moment.  I felt as though I was the puppet master and they were my toys.  As sinister and evil as it sounds I felt no remorse. We began to experience a wave of pleasure.  We left the party and moved to the tour bus. We were all now alone, myself 2 friends, and the 17 of them.  It had begun with a simple body shot of tequila and ended up being a fuck fest. We drank and indulged, and drank and indulged and I began to feel overcome with guilt.

It was so terrible, I became weak.  The room began to spin and I tried to make my way off the bus but it all happened way to fast. I began to sweat and my mouth was dry. My head was throbbing and my stomach was turning inside out.  Through all the music and laughter and talking and random screams I made my way to the tour buses bathroom. I locked the door and I puked almost immediately on the floor. I didn’t give a shit but I knew I had to hide it; I almost had an anxiety attack. I knew I had to calm down before I collapsed so I washed my face in cold water and tried to calm down.  They realized I was gone and began banging on the door calling what they thought was my name.  It was when I heard that fictitious name I realized I needed to pull myself together and get the fuck out of there.  That wasn’t who I was and it was THAT persona that took over. I had to burn it and get myself back. I slowly gathered myself and then I saw myself in the mirror.  I analyzed everything and hated who I had become.  It was like my soul was sucked back inside of me instantly and I had saw a portrait of the monster I had become…the nightmare.  It was ugly, tired, and gaunt.  My hair had begun to grey, my appearance had begun to suffer, and what I knew to be once flawless had become chipped and cracked. The damage was done and I had paid the price.  It hurt me in a way only I could hurt myself, it was reality. I saw what the outsiders saw. I judged myself. With this having been brought the surface I unlocked the door and the music was still blaring. I made my was passed the people as they looked on in awe and went home.  I rejected the console given to me and sought solace in a familiar place. 

As I made my way to my room I heard laughter and it was warm and I followed it.  It was my old group of friends long abandoned by me but never forgotten. We had always remained close even after I began to disappear. I knocked on the door and let myself in and there she was, a woman I had neglected for a long time in search of everything that would soon destroy me. She warned me, and even tried to help me, but I turned her away, yet here she was. She ran to the door and I grabbed her and hugged her so tight I felt her heart beat and I began to cry. She slowly wrapped her arms around me and allowed me to enter.