Bottoms up

E-Male isn’t much of a drinker nowadays, having wrote finis to his wild, wild ways of staggering out of bars and driving home to near-death experiences. Cheers to that. Yet, he somehow took on another vice, which involved inflating his lung sacs with clouds of carcinogen.

That isn’t to say that E-Male doesn’t throttle his throat with a tipple or two of fine red wine. It doesn’t seem to make any difference especially during social occasions where everyone seems to see double the wisdom and finds liberation in lively libation. After all, sipping the liquor-y syrup is said to work wonders for the heart.

Nonetheless, E-Male is always reminded of far too many slightly disturbing (yet highly entertaining) bouts with boozing in his lifetime. So much in fact that if he were to be granted celebrity status – say, by finally putting his singing career on the map (as lost as that dream may already be) – a session with Boy Abunda wouldn’t be too far behind. Ah yes, the stories sober men tell.

But that isn’t to say that E-Male was completely sober. He traced his lucid interval only after he realized three years ago that everyone lacks any significant trace of sobriety at the mere sight of pulutan, friends and longneck. Although E-Male has left his sessions with Gilbey’s and Tanduay long, long ago, in a jologs galaxy far, far away; that still doesn’t overshadow that one enlightening conversation with a certain carabao in some old farmer’s rice field during his activist heydays.

That evening, E-Male discovered the true meaning of getting in touch with nature: a close-up interview with a domesticated animal, and a flowing glass of lambanog.

Since then, (and since the seemingly endless carabao jokes to follow and his English begins to sound like how-how the carabao before the last tagay) E-Male has moved on to less deprecating indulgences – namely, smoking and getting a kick out of collecting every soon-to-be-released pirated VCD or DVD.

But not to completely knock on the united alcoholics of the world, drinking does have its own category of poise, as well as its fair share of myth. The archetypal, successful businessman is portrayed as suit, case and a glass of bourbon at the end of the day. The fifty-something CEO always has a liquor closet somewhere in his office, loaded only with scotch while twentysomethings lounge about to "appetize" on office tsismis and corporate chitchat in the fashionable drinking districts of Manila, Ortigas Center, Eastwood and Timog, QC.

And then, there are the large masses of Filipinos who sponge on Emperador, Gin Pomelo and San Miguel cerveza.

Then again, there are usual stories of beer-garden binges and brawls complete with bloodied gladiators fighting over GROs or over their favorite basketball teams. There’s also the memorable members of Alcoholics Notorious – mostly the lasenggero father image types that goes home reeking with an unhealthy stench of domestic violence and broken families – always a personal favorite in courtroom scenes in telenovelas.

Our culture is indeed soaked in the spirits we swig. For beer, the words like pakikisama and barkadas are synonymous with the idea of pa-morningans or magdamagans at the nearest suking tindahan. Drinking as a passion has made our country known globally, and if the Philippines were to drop its conservatism completely, every man, woman and child would have a bottle of San Mig in hand instead of a cell phone (a picture that doesn’t stray so very far from contemporary Ireland).

But not to put some spit on the taste and smell of bubbling potions, a growing number of Filipinos have been kicking the bucket into their caskets due to too much buckets of some alcoholic beverage. Liver and kidney diseases are blamed on the excesses of our libations. Not that there’s anything wrong with the fatalities of alcohol, since a great number of artists (musicians, poets, painters) have been known to have met their maker through the eye of an empty beer bottle. Alcoholism is actually supported by the weight of artistic genius.

Speaking of genius; for the modern feminist (specifically, the male who has adopted a rather overwhelming interest in the female psyche) drinks have made it as a full-proof setup for an interesting evening for the modern Filipina.

Quite like the scene from a commercial, but still, quite true. There is a single lady in the bar. Approach with a beer bottle on one hand and charm on the other, and your chances of a little "getting-to-know-you" increases dramatically. It’s a simple case really, and even if caught with some low-end beer in your palm, just excuse yourself with a little "I like to rough it" by horsing around with Red Horse or Colt 45. Of course, there is no particular appeal if you’re caught with a bottle of Evian.

Women don’t have an affinity towards alcoholics, its true, but a man who can hold his own after a few rounds of the strongest whiskey is definitely someone they’d keep an eye on. The logic goes; if you can hold it in the bar, you can certainly hold it in the bedroom. Add a bit of witty conversation, and some foreign accent, then you can surely expect some company for breakfast.

An excuse for mutual aid and comfort during hangover.

E-Male always conceded to some of the more seductive qualities of drinking that smoking seems to lack. You can’t necessarily knock a lady out with a box of Winston (not considering of course, using the Winston as a weapon) or "get lucky" with Lucky Strikes. Other women stay away from smokers completely, as if nicotine were some sort of remnant from the Black Plague.

On the other hand, the word Martini and the phrase "shaken not stirred" bring out the bond between a man and a woman especially in those seductive moments where one’s passions and perspective could only sharpen if seen from the bottom of an empty bottle or glass.

So, bottoms up, babes and brods!

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E-mail E-Male at argee@justice.com.