Many years ago, when I was in my twenties, I dated this guy who seemed perfect–good-looking, college-educated and intelligent. I was so pleased with him that I invited him to my family’s big Thanksgiving dinner, where the food was plentiful and the wine flowed. What I didn’t realize was that this guy had a drinking problem. It seemed that he’d imbibed considerably before I picked him up to take him to my parents’ place. By the time dinner was served, he’d had a few glasses of wine and was slurring his words. I was embarrassed and prayed the big meal would shut him up if not sober him up, but alas it was not to be. My family and I watched in horror as he fell headfirst into the turkey dinner, drunk as a lord. I knew that this guy was the real turkey. Needless to say, I never saw him again.