Archive for September, 2011
I’ve been asked several times if dating is hard when you live a life of Recovery. At first I always said it wasn’t and for the most part I don’t think it is. But there are days when it seems harder than others. There are days when I wish I could go to a bar and have a cocktail and flirt with a cute guy.
I wish my brain would allow me to have one drink and walk away, but last I remember, I can’t do that. I can’t just have one drink, what is the point of one drink. How much can my inhibitions really be lowered with one drink. I’m pretty crazy and silly sober. I would need several drinks to get me where I want to be.
Where you ask, well, at the point where sex is just sex. You see when I was drinking sex was just sex. I repeat that because that’s how it was. Although a part of me wished that the guy I picked up would be the one to make an honest man out of me it was just that. I was a realist in the midst of my drunkness.
I knew that ‘True Love” would not be found at the bottom of a shot glass or in a condom wrapper. Stuck between the sheets or in a strangers shoes. It would be a one night stand or a couple of weeks of dating, well meeting at the local bar for drinks, maybe some dinner and sex.
But when it came time to take it to the next level the relationship was over. You see for me, and I stress that For Me, there was no example of a Sober relationship to base a standard on. I had never until my last relationship, had a Sober relationship, and the first one was a learning process.
He helped me take the training wheels off and go off on my own. That hasn’t worked out to well. I do find myself missing drunk dating at times. Not that I would go back so don’t start worrying about finding me and dragging me to a meeting or calling my Sponsor. Just that Daniel was more open.
And I do mean sexually. I had no fear. If I was interested I would put it out there. Now I fear rejection a bit more. Not that I wasn’t rejected before just that now I feel it. That, my friends, is the hard part, the fact that I feel it even more than before. Alcohol for all the bad it was it served its purpose.
It numbed the feelings and that in the end is why I drank to hide my pain and hurt. My loneliness and anger. My tears and sadness… One, two, three, four, five drinks and I was ready to go. I miss the days when I didn’t have to feel and could lose myself in a shot of Tequila or a good Bourbon and 7… One drink!
At my age and after many years dating and being in relationships I have done and been just about every kind of person. I have been the caregiver, the lover, the high maintenance boy friend, the frugal one. I’ve sat in the back and I’ve been loud in front all in order to please my lover at the time.
Tiring… Yes. It’s tiring just to write and even more to read over but I did it all in the name of love or the closest thing to it. I have morphed and changed all in an effort to not be alone. All in an effort to be part of something and not wake up in bed alone again.
I have loved big dogs, small dogs, I have even shared a bed with some. I have hated cats, disliked birds, babysat children, avoided places with children. Loud restaurants, quiet places, too close to the highway, too close to downtown. The table is too close to the bathroom.
I’ve had my hair short and left it long. Didn’t wear cologne or used scented soaps. No gel in my hair or no hair spray. Wore a cap and a cowboy hat or never wore a hat again. Wore boots to the beach and sandals to the club. Shorts and a tux even all in an effort to fit in.
Spoke just English and even just Spanish, learned Sign Language and tried to learn Italian. Ate strange food I couldn’t pronounce and some that I didn’t want to smell. Some that looked back at me and I think one that even moved. But I tried it so I wouldn’t eat alone.
I slept on the right side of the bed and then on the left. I slept on a futon and on the floor, on a couch. I slept with more than two persons in bed and at some point I slept outside on a camping trip. I slept in a camper, bed of a pick-up truck and an RV, he was a traveling nurse.
I have tried everything to not be alone, done anything to not be alone, and yet today I’m alone. I’m alone writing about why I’m alone and I’m really not any of those things and a lot of those things. I have learned and grown, I have liked, loved, and hated some of those things.
Maybe this time I’m gonna try to find out what I like, love, and hate. I’m gonna give ‘Me’ a chance to decide what he wants and when he finds out what he likes, loves, and hates I’ll meet someone that knows what they like, love, and hate. Then together we can like, love, and hate the same things.
Because in the end I like, love, and hate myself. Sometime apart, sometimes together.