I once fell in love with an alcoholic woman. Matter fact I think I became kind of obsessed for a minute. It wasn’t the first time in my sobriety that I dated an alcoholic. Years before I met my love nemesis, I met a woman (let’s call her Tracy) who used to have a wine in her juice bottle every time I’d come to pick her up. She regularly drink down a whole bottle of Hennessy before we’d fuck our brains out, all while I tasted the alcohol on her breath on through her skin as she sweated it out of her pours. As an alcoholic myself who gave up drinking years ago this can be counterproductive and hella dangerous, but I went in feet (dick) first and enjoyed the time (and sex) we had. I ended the relationship abruptly after I knew it couldn’t be something I see myself doing forever. In addition, picking her up was killing my pocket in gas to drive so far out of Toronto to her home.
Then came my love nemesis. We’ll call her April. A 5ft 2” round blond cutey who can down a full bottle of vodka to the head. Every time I went to see her, her lips and tongue tasted like old times. It wasn’t necessarily the taste of myself drinking vodka, wine or whatever she had consumed on any week night, but the taste of a carefree woman. She let me dive in the first night (unprotected) and we sexed like love crazed boyfriend and girlfriend. Problem was, we weren’t.
She was very indifferent and took hours at a time to return my texts. Sometimes she would text me wet pussy pics and water drop emojis to signify she was wet for me. We would repeat our sweaty sexual routine more frequently as if we were trying to make a baby immediately! We’d meet, smoke weed I’d watch her swig her bottle then we’d eventually get to it. This was perfect for me, so I thought. She never wanted to go places, she’d curb invitations and replace them with late night “Come over” texts. This combination of disinterestedness and amazing squirt heavy sex equaled to what I thought was love. I don’t know how this happened but the fully focused, content creating, sober, corporate job having blog writer fell in love, non reciprocated.
The more I pushed for time with her the more she pulled away. Her delayed reply to texts started driving my mind crazy thinking, “What the fuck?! I’m sure her next man has her attention right now!” Or “Who the fuck does she think she is putting ME on a back burner? She’s cute but she ain’t no fuckin dime to be treating ME like this!”
Every time I confronted her about it she pulled further away. She kept making her intentions vocal and as clear as when we first hooked up, “I told you Kofi, I’m really not looking for a relationship right now. Can’t we just enjoy this?” Problem was, “that was my line!” I used to use that same line over and over again in my dating career whether drunk or in sobriety, wondering why women couldn’t accept this “simple” explanation. It finally was being flipped over on me and I hated that shit. I started feeling jealous of her Instagram post, obsessive over the time she wasn’t spending with me. I started feeling inadequate and always had the feeling that when we hooked up this may be the last time.
As I write this I realize that it wasn’t love that I had for April. It was a bad combination of ego and my subconscious feeling that I deserve someone that mirrored the lows of my past. Her alcoholic routine was just like mine used to be and I was using her to recreate an old feeling. This has nothing to do with her real personality or her own personal experiences. Rather her recklessness and shielding of her true personality made it easier to get the energy I wanted from the “relationship” and totally ignore what she wanted.
As I learn and explore more about myself in my forties I realize that this was a valuable lesson in self love. I’ve been working on shedding my jadedness and I still wonder what she’s up to at times. I hope that she has been able to find the freedom in sobriety that I have. This story is a contribution to my motivation to always make sure to exercise self love and never doubting my adequacy, it’s a work in progress.