Denice

Men who flock together for a drinking spree amaze me. They would disappear from their women, their work or studies to be with their friends for a night of splurging. It wouldn’t really matter whether it’s a weekday or a weekend as long as they can sneak out from the rest of the world. They would do it for the thrill and sometimes it becomes a habit. “Pour buddy,” one sip leads to another.

Seeing them together, one would forget what psychologist John Gray has been talking about men being from planet Mars and therefore are species who do not pour their minds and hearts out as women. Their red noses bear witness to the many glasses of liquor consumed through those happy hours and beyond at a bar, a beer house, a tavern, a sari-sari store, at kumpare’s house — wherever alcohol exists. Never mind the risk of a horrendous hangover, a bulging belly, disruptions from duties and sometimes personal relationships going sour, too.

The lure of drinking fraternities seems to transcend race, genes and socio-economic class since 400 B.C. — as long as history can remember. Hence, the ever bullish alcohol industry that also keeps spending millions of dollars in advertising to declare that group drinking is cool, and that it’s part of the cheers to the good life.

Continue here: Stepping inside

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