I experienced my first alcoholic. Lessons from a holiday party foul  

Hello, Gorgeous.

In the midst of creating an entire course based on the power of a glamorous community, becoming a modern socialite and reporting back, I unintentionally stumbled upon a nightmare come true. The party foul I never wanted to meet or have the misfortune of recounting this experience. Shields up. Guards up. Stay vigilant. 

This is a butt-clenching cautionary tale of a holiday dinner party gone awry. Names are changed to protect the privacy of individuals involved (except my Adam’s, because you guys are familiar with my sweetheart already). I will do my best to not give too much away, but to use this scenario as a standard for taking care of yourself. And your circle of people around you. Protect your peace. 

At social gatherings, we try to not have our foot in our mouth. 

During the rare events that we do, it is typically unforeseen and unintentional which is a thousand times more forgivable than what I am sorry to share.

Thanksgiving is supposed to be about loved ones getting together to appreciate our current conditions no matter the circumstances. It really is one of what would be deemed the happiest holidays, because technically speaking, when you are grateful is when your brain smiles. Everything around you radiates. Add fabulous food on top of that– you’re good to go till the end of the year. 

For me personally, it is a mother’s holiday. 

It is usually my biological mum’s birthday and is very close to my heart simply because without her I would not exist and have such a beautiful life to appreciate in the first place. Also, my stepmum played an integral role when teaching me how to host guests, exemplify excellent entertainment, and always put my best food forward no matter the mood I was in. In other words, a stiff upper lip.

Unknowingly, I was going to have to use this emotional regulation to fight back tears and walk away from someone.

Luckily, I have only encountered a handful of these moments, but the stress surging through my body is more than enough for the next 20 years, thank you very much. I was spat at. I was cursed at. I tried to help with all my heart listening to what exactly was going on. Usually people have something meaningful to say behind all the profanity, but this was a black hole of empty misery you do not want to get sucked into. 

It all started at the beach. 

This was the first full Summer my sweetheart and I got to spend together, so we invited some new characters. Old friends for him, and new introductions for me. I’ve heard so much about his wonderful best mate and how he looked forward to a double date.

Let’s call his wife Nancy.

We all had a great time, but immediately I could spot the differences in how Nancy and I grew up. My sweetheart and his friends may be from another country, but they grew up to incredible parents who raised them similarly to mine. A religious household with upstanding parents who raised healthy children. In every sense of all the good words I mentioned. 

Our standards were remarkably different, so I did not dare mention that. 

I wanted to be relatable but still not water myself down, so I connected with her based on the fact that we are both California girls of another culture. 

Something weird happened.

After the beach, my sweetheart mentioned a fragment briefly in passing about Nancy. He said, ‘Do not talk with her.’ That was the end of that. He did not get into it. I was confused. Only to receive more damning clarity later. 

I do not remember if it was on the way home or if I was texting her the next day, but he asserted this one sentence without further explanation. This was only my first meeting with the both of them, so I thought this was odd. He always speaks highly of his dear friend, but never mentioned much about his wife until this moment.  

Fast forward to our holiday get together.

On a Facetime call with my sweetheart, Nancy sent me a text in the midst of it. Opening the message, I immediately told him about the contents: a Thanksgiving celebration she was inviting us to a couple weeks later. I was delighted we were properly making plans for something stalwart – a holiday with friends creating memories together. 

We mapped out plans on who was bringing what and times our schedules permitted us to convene. My love had to work on the holiday and his schedule kept annoyingly changing. I was not going to see his friends without him as this was only the second time I was meeting them as a couple. I wanted us all to be coupled. 

The original plan 

My thoughts were when I came over, she could still take some time to get ready, I could help prepare and be on standby playing with their two puppies. My boyfriend and his best mate could spend some time in fresh air with beers on the balcony as Nancy and I would organically talk about everything and nothing. 

We walked through the doors of their lovely home and wait…back up.

We waited at the door for what felt like 5-10 minutes.

It was strange. Something was off. 

Adam–my boyfriend–made a joke that his best friend was in the bathroom too long and I laughed in good spirits. I knocked on the door saying, ‘FBI OPEN UP.’ A couple minutes passed. No text. No call. Just us standing in the cold.

Carrying the food I schlepped across town two hours for, not to mention a decadent tiramisu cake in our arms, we were ready to get settled and tuck into a holiday feast. Earlier, Adam and I were on a video call talking about hunger and how I was saving my appetite to pay my respects to the chef and give great compliments. I was so looking forward. 

Mr. Best Friend opened the door and greeted us with his usual warm smile and marvellous constitution. 

Good vibes. Good vibes. We stepped into what I thought would be a normal get together and hopefully walk out feeling even closer. 

I said hello to the puppies with kisses and hugs and the guys returned to the front door to spend some bro time together. The room felt off. There was bad energy all over the place. In the air. I was a bit surprised to see nothing was ready. No oven was on. Not a sign of the beginning of food preparation in sight. It was peculiar, because it was getting late. 

I realised what felt off. Nancy had not come out to say hello for an initial greeting. 

No, ‘Hey girl!’ or ‘Happy Thanksgiving!’ Not a ‘Good to see you’, anywhere to be met. She was not anywhere to be seen but made it known she was in her room with sounds she made through the door. 

I assumed she was fresh out of the shower, running late and taking her time getting ready to look perfect. But this was more acceptable or excusable if there was some type of plating indication. There were no manifestations of meal composition at all.  

As a woman, I wholeheartedly understand running behind because of something going wrong cooking, then getting myself ready last. It did not bother me too much, because it was possible she was expecting me to help as I offered when making plans. There should not be pressure on only one person on such a holiday serving four grown people. 

I heard glass break as if something heavy hit the floor.

In Spanish, I asked if she needed help. She answered no – but I did not catch the way she said no. Her husband came back to pass where I was in the sitting room and entered their bedroom to help. Later he would point out that the way she said no with attitude was a huge red flag. He knew something was wrong at this point. 

Eventually, she came out underdressed with no makeup, spouting off complaints with a face she could not control. 

Meaning, she could not control the muscles on her visage, because I could see she was drunk. Her slurring words and wavering physicality took me a minute to piece together, but I sat her down to get a glimpse of what was going on in her mind.

Her voice was shrill, but I calmly talked to her as if she was not giving me a headache or ulcer.

Perhaps she could express herself to a friend and I could be an ear to de-escalate the situation. 

I had no idea what I was in for and kept asking what she was talking about, because she genuinely did not make any sense. Think as if someone is starting in the middle of the story and you are trying to catch up. 

Adam immediately sensed heaviness and said, ‘Baby let’s go.’ 

My sweetheart walked out the front door and did not say a word. I tried to talk some sense into her with positive sentiments and understand her better. She shut down every attempt at my compassionate communication but I still gave her grace.

Honest to goodness, I had no idea what she was saying, but it sounded like she was aiming her attacks at her husband. Knowing what a gentleman he is, I knew she was in the wrong, but I at least wanted her to section off into the privacy of her room to vent. Wanting to support her, I encouraged her with kindness and warm words letting her know I am here to listen. 

Nancy shut me down again. 

She was not making sense until I finally discerned that she may have been directing her dialogue towards me, but she was committing a verbose assault on why men are not necessary to her own husband. 

My immediate thought was, then why are you married? 

I have a personal difficulty with people who make blanket statements especially when I knew her husband was truly a good-hearted, honest man. It being Thanksgiving, I wanted to mitigate her fears, doubts, and whatever trouble she was going through by reminding her of how benevolent her husband is. 

‘We don’t need men.’ She haughtily proclaimed. 

‘What makes you say that? What happened?’ I gently asked. 

She couldn’t really explain herself and whatever she said did not matter, because I found out after the fact that she was an alcoholic who cannot help herself and had 4 bottles of prosecco starting at 9am. Talking in circles, she went back into her room. 

Adam told me how they had a fight right before they came and we could leave if we wanted. 

His best mate succinctly touched on this fact when they were near the front of the house. The ambiance was off for him and he had a strong feeling to abscond without delay. I said, ‘We just got here and it’s Thanksgiving.’ Looking back, I sounded so naive.

Nancy came back out of her room, scaring the dogs so much that they started barking and scurried to the balcony with their dad. Adam said goodbye to his best friend and him being my beacon, I was trying to gently say goodbye to his best friend and the irate, drunk wife. 

I gave the best friend a hug and stood up to try to say goodbye, letting her know that if she changes her mind later I am simply a call or text away. This is a quick fast forward of the events, because she mouthed off very loudly in my face, spitting in my eyes continuing absurdities.

Long story short, she insulted everyone in her entire life nonstop, threatening to kill herself. I mentioned how a friend in my circle took his life recently and how many people it affected and are still affected to this day. She encouraged his death and it hurt my feelings immensely. She also kept cutting me off interrupting any time I tried to softly answer one of her questions she shouted in my face. I was tired of being kind. 

Retrospecting, she was unfolding her crazy and becoming unreasonably louder the more I said kind words. 

WE’RE NEVER CALLING YOU BACK. 

I said calmly, ‘You can text me.’

WE’RE NEVER TEXTING YOU BACK.

Her husband stepped in to make sure she did not do anything out of line. I felt his protective energy and composed voice trying to say goodbye and move things along without being rude. His wife could not control herself and she kept prolonging my goodbye, because she needed an audience to scream at. 

WE’RE NEVER CALLING YOU BACK. YOU’RE NOT OUR FRIENDS.

WE DON’T HAVE ANY FRIENDS ANYMORE.

Standing up to her, I was genuinely scared thinking she might swing at me. 

Remaining peaceful, I asked what she meant only for her to talk of more baseless claims. 

Making my way to the front of the house to leave, I hugged her husband goodbye along with the dogs. She followed me out to scream and spit in my face some more. I was holding back tears trying to be a good friend, but she was abusing my heart. 

Once in the car, Adam said, ‘When I say let’s go, just leave.’ I nodded in shock. 

He explained how he experienced this before, but never wanted to let me know, because it is not pure of mind and how he only wants to share positive, beautiful things with me. 

It was worth protecting me from this, but he said to never talk to her again as he recounted several various occasions where she blew up similar to this. Apparently this was one of the more harmful states he witnessed. There is no communication going forward. Block immediately. His best friend is divorcing her. 

He talked-screamed on the phone with his best friend as we drove home on speaker about the whole mess. 

They were almost shouting in Arabic mentioning some words in French and English. What I merely picked up from translation was, ‘She scared her!’ ‘She is upsetting her!’ ‘She is making her cry!’ ‘She is crazy!’ And all things along these lines. 

We got home and I cooked my first Thanksgiving meal as an adult. 

Typically, I would be out and about or in another country experiencing something new. This time, it was just me and him – I think it was similar last year. Everything was delicious. This time, we had our first guest since having lived here. 

Mr. Best Friend came over to profusely express his deepest apologies and all the past mistakes with Nancy. 

I doubt he will leave her, but my sweetheart was adamant that she does not deserve him and he could not go on like this. I assured him he has my support no matter what, because I want him to feel fulfilled even if I do not necessarily agree 100% with every detail. Nothing is perfect, and I accepted that that’s okay long ago. 

He is not in a good situation but I understood the predicament he was in, because of other personal details I will not mention. 

It is a private matter to make such a big decision and all we can do is offer him a space to withdraw on our sofa if needed. 

After he left, Adam and I hugged each other a few times for a few long moments thankful we had each other. We sat down and I asked him if I unintentionally hurt her with my words or anything I previously mentioned beforehand. Without hesitation, he responded, ‘No she’s a drunk.’ 

Any time she was mentioned, I could feel everything Adam said was full of disdain. 

It was a ‘throw this entire situation in the trash and move on with your life’ inclination. He had every right to feel this way and pointed out that this is what real toxicity looks like. 

He held my hand affirming I did nothing wrong except be a decent human and that he does not want me being poisoned by her. 

My heart broke a little bit, because of what could have been. I wanted to be best wife-friends with her. But I looked to a brighter future for his best friend. Hopefully, he gets out of there once his dilemma is fixed however he solves it. 

The men gave me utter grace, because they said I am new and this was my first time seeing how she really was. Adam was sick of her and how she acted towards his best friend. A lot of harsh words were spoken that should never be repeated in hopes of a tranquil hereafter.

This looked a touch familiar.

My sweetheart had a similar reaction to what my friends had when they found out about my abusive stalker ex*. Adam had something similar that briefly bled into our relationship at the start. 

*Only one of the few stalkers I would have in the past two years. Also, the only horrible/negative relationship I have ever had and did not stay friendly with this sad excuse of a person.

This was the only scary situation I had ever been in relationship-wise, so I could see the reason for their responsive absolute hate towards cowards like this.  

Mildly put, I said how I hope they do not have children for the sake of everyone’s health in addition to alcoholism being hereditary. 

The day after

I put my phone down after messaging with Adam only to screenshot my notifications. 

Nancy: Hello, can I talk to you?

BLOCK HER. 

He said. My sweetheart went off saying a thousand things wrong with her and that I am to not converse with this person. I listened and blocked her there and then.  

There were signs when I looked back. Enormous red flags.

After our day at the beach when Adam told me to not talk with her, I was surprised. In the car on the way home from our holiday fiasco, he expounded with more information. 

Back at the beach, I saw her enjoy a few beers and really knock several out. Faster than the guys. I do not drink, so I picked this up. I noticed she slightly became a different person after a few cans. Her mood definitely switched, but nothing too concerning. Her husband pointed this out during his visit. 

I could feel she was not good at making and keeping friends or nurturing relationships in general. 

Also, I felt that it was weird that our partners were best friends, but she did not really make an effort to get to know each other too well.  She did not text me back when she said she would. Nancy actually never texted me unless I made the effort. To each their own, but I felt that she did not know how to naturally keep people around. 

Not that she used people, but she is not mentally healthy when it comes to any type of relationship. Broken homes do this and this is a big deal that I see affects so many people who think they have their head on straight. 

You don’t know what you don’t know, so you think you have your life together until you see a healthy person’s rich relationships. It makes you feel like not enough inside. But you have to recognise this self awareness in the first place to fix it and feel whole. 

A similar feeling to describe this is when someone speaks a beautiful language in front of you that you do not understand. It is the ultimate exclusion and makes you wish you could do more when communicating and comprehension. 

Nothing was genuine. 

Or at least without maximum effort that felt organic. There were so many nuances and small signs the gentlemen pointed out to me later. Some too personal to divulge. 

At one point, she did drive the conversation asking me several hundred questions about what I like to do on my off time. Then she sent the final text that had me questioning, because it made me really uncomfortable. I have never heard anyone say this before:

‘I’m trying to think of what we have in common, because you don’t drink.’

My initial thoughts were fair, ‘We do not have to have anything in common to be friends.’ We can simply co-exist and be close as I do with a fair amount of individuals I deeply care for. 

A majority of my friends do not drink and have their lives together more than most people. We have more important things to do than disrupt our hormone function, dehydrate our brains and skin, age like milk, and all the downsides of alcohol. 

The only alcohol I have is in perfume or in my vintage collection ready for investment. Otherwise, investment pieces are similar to Ferraris and Birkins. You do not want to use them too much or else the value declines. It is wise to keep champagne bottles corked for a sufficient amount of time. 

I want to have children one day, so I am treating my body as a temple for as long as I want to carry babies. My body is a home fortified with love for my future little ones and I want to keep it as clean and healthy as possible. No mistakes. No trash. No soiling it.  

The next two days I was still shaken and realised I had a bit of a trauma response. 

I reacted by raising my voice in a high stress situation involving other strangers. I did not mean to and I apologised trying to breathe full breaths to lower my heart rate. The effects of past stresses returned. 

A year and a half passed since I was last screamed at like this and terrorised by a genuinely diagnosed crazy person and I had that feeling again. 

Adam hugged me with his entire body and soul pledging that he will never let me get hurt like that again.

I believe him.

It was especially jarring, because it felt like when you are trying to reason with a homeless person but they are on so many drugs that they are simply unreasonable. The same exact feeling. This is why adults learn to ignore strangers. We have to filter the noise and protect our peace. 

On very rare occasions, it is okay to close the door on someone to stay sane. 

If I saw her walking in my direction, I would turn around to walk the other way. I feel sick every time I think about how she made me feel and about her altogether. I do not want to feel this mix of emotions again.

Protecting your peace is essential. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do for yourself is to walk away. You cannot pour from an empty cup into a broken vessel. I wanted to be the friend who could bridge whatever gap existed as best friend wives. 

Some people are drowning in their own chaos. They will pull you under too. 

The hardest lesson is knowing when compassion becomes self-destruction.

To anyone who has encountered their own “Nancy”—a toxic, volatile family member or friend, someone whose demons are louder than their humanity—you are not responsible for fixing broken people. You can offer kindness. You cannot sacrifice your wellbeing on the altar of someone else’s refusal to heal.

Guard your inner circle fiercely. 

Cherish the people who show up with warmth, consistency, and genuine care. My sweetheart and his best friend showed me what real protection looks like—emotional guardianship, not just physical safety. They honoured my instinct to help. They also ensured I understood when help becomes harmful.

It takes strength to step away. Block the chaos. Embrace the peace. Surround yourself with people who meet your kindness with kindness. At the end of the day, the world is a mirror. All you have to do is smile and it will smile back. 

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