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1911 addict
44 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)

My name is Chuck and I am an addict.

I'm 66 years old and my problems began on my tenth birthday when my parents gave me my very first .22, she was a beauty. Many a squirrel fell under my power.

I bought my first 1911 in 1987, after many years I'd graduated to the hard stuff. My addiction got so bad that Dillon (my square dealer) was dishing out 500 pills per week just to keep up. Just the memory of that cold steel in my hand, that beavertail caressing the tender web of my hand, and my finger, a single digit in control of that ultimate powerful release...

Addiction was ruling my life, I lived only for the next shot, the surge of recoil flowing through my body, the smell of burning powder wafting in the air...

Finally, I hit bottom, the only way to survive was to run, running as fast as I could, I left the temptation of familiar ranges, the escape led to the plains of my ancestors.

I was at peace, the spirits of my ancestors soothed my soul and I was reborn, all was well.

There came a time that the days of the gun, as a tool were necessary again. I could control the bad impulses. I did not return to the power of the 1911. I could control my urges by simply using a weaker weapon. There was no thrill in using this plastic pistol, the beavertail did not caress, there was no surge flowing, but the smell...

It started slowly, the weight on my hip was familiar though significantly less. There was no style in this plastic, no grace or beauty in it's release...

And yet an emptiness pervaded, slowly it grew into a yearning, pictures, surely pictures would be OK. Things were good for a while, and then it happened, a picture that was familiar, it was so close to her, the temptress that drove me over the edge.


There was no controlling the desire, it had to be a lie, how could this beautiful temptress cost less than my plastic imitations, it had the most glorious beavertail, a bull barrel ambidextrous safety , fiber optic adjustable sights, huge magwell, skeleton hammer, lightweight trigger and 10mm of power, twice the power of my old addiction.

It was beyond my ability to resist this new drug that cost less than my plastic placebo.

So, I gave in, I surrendered, I ordered my own destruction, $579.02 changed hands, USPS delivered the obsession and UPS delivers 500 powerful pills...

Please help me, for I believe that I am lost again.

And I feel so wonderful...

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1,414 Posts
Yeah, you got it bad. Congratulations, you’re in the right place. Welcome from Alabama.


We Are!
2,967 Posts
If I wasn’t the battle-hardened hunk o’ man that I clearly am...your opening post might have gotten me as misty as I get when Momma slices up onions for chili dogs.

...get me a Kleenex, pronto...

(LOL - you do indeed have the Addiction - perhaps the best case I’ve ever seen! Welcome aboard)!

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