Just gonna jump right in….
“Are you depressed?”, he asks.
At this point, I don’t know whether to laugh or take him seriously. My Dad jokes around a lot, so I didn’t know what to say.
He goes to pick up one of the bottles, “You know people who drink a lot tend to be depressed”, he says.
“Are you serious right now? And where did you even get that statistic?”, I ask trying not to laugh.
“I just know. Do you need to talk about something?”
“Dad, I’m not depressed.”
“I’m just saying, this is a lot of liquor.”
He’s picking up each bottle, and I’m sitting on my coffee table waiting for the Bravo TV cameramen to emerge from closets and random corners, because this cannot be life.
“Vodka? This is hard liquor you got here.”
I start laughing, “Oh my goodness.”
“I’m serious, Val. Are you OK? I saw an empty bottle in your room too.”
He’s talking about an empty bottle of 1800 RespadoTequila that I kept because I liked the shape of the bottle. I thought it was cool. It’s in plain sight on a bookshelf.
“Dad, I’m not depressed.” I go on to explain my tequila bottle souvenir (which I should point out I did not drink alone, or straight. for the most part).
He’s still looking at each bottle and again, not convinced.
“The majority of those bottles are not opened or more than half full.”
“Still, Val. This is a lot”, he says.
I’m trying to reassure him that he’s blowing this out of proportion. I’m attempting to salvage any confidence he has in my drinking habits.
We spar verbally for about three minutes. Then he has the typical “dad last comment moment”. You know that last comment a parent makes when they think they got you? Yeah.
So I gave him my best monologue of why he doesn’t need to worry. Here it goes:
“Don’t I have a good track record so far? Have you ever had to get bail money for me? No. Did I ever come across as unstable or incapable of making responsible decisions? I think you’ve done a pretty good job at raising me to be a semi-normal person who likes to drink occasionally and responsibly.”
He looks at me. Does his hand clap thing.
“Well, I still think this should be a dry house.”
“OK, Dad I have to go to bed soon.”
We laugh about it, say our goodbyes, and he heads home.
The moral of this story? When your parents are coming over to your place, just hide your liquor. Every bottle. All of it.