Saturday, January 20, 2018

So and So

Check it out, Drunkards: I got my 30-day chip.


I mean, my  30-day chip.


No, no, no. My 30-day CHIP.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, as of yesterday I'm 30 days sober.


So yay, me.

And in a completely unplanned coincidence, yesterday was also the 30th anniversary of my first date with my ex-spouse. And in a holy-shit-you-couldn't-plan-this-if-you-tried twist, my ex and I had a sort-of date last night.

Totally not a date: Precocious Daughter is playing in the orchestra for her school's musical, and last night her dad and I saw the show. PDaughter had my car, and I had the tickets, so it worked out logistically that the ex picked me up at my place and we sat together in the auditorium.

So not a date.

The show was "The Little Mermaid," by the way. And it was fantastic. In particular, the young man who played Sebastian the Crab basically stole the show and also happens to totally not be PDaughter's boyfriend. I know this because I ask her every time they spend hours texting, and she always says he's not her boyfriend. Also, I asked her after the show when she introduced me to him and I took a picture of them smiling like loons together. And she said he's not her boyfriend.

So there's that.

I feel really, really good, you guys. And for the record, despite my references to 30-day chips, I am NOT, in the parlance, "going to meetings" or "working the 12 steps" or being "a friend of Bill W." Alcoholics Anonymous (probably) has helped a lot of people. And I'm a huge fan of people doing what works for them. But for me, personally, AA has three strikes against it:

1. I'm not down with the whole "giving up control to a higher power" thing. I've spent the last few years - not to mention the last 30 days - seizing control of myself, for myself. No offense to the God of my understanding, but I don't need another in a long line of father figures to chart to my course for me.

2. I don't want to sit in a room and talk to people. If you know anything about me, no further explanation is needed.

3. I'm not an alcoholic.

Don't go tripping all over yourselves to say that only an alcoholic would insist she's not an alcoholic. I'm a stupid person who stupidly developed a drinking problem. I have within me the capacity to return to said stupid behavior at any time. But I don't want to, for now. I'm enjoying being sober, I love the fact that I'm losing vodka-weight, I dig not having to sift through my brain cells every morning to figure out what I need to be embarrassed/ashamed/apologetic about from the night before.

Alcoholism is a thing. It's not my thing.

This is also not my thing, but it is extremely funny. Each to his own.


So where does that leave me?

Getting there, mainly. Getting healthy. Getting happy. Getting back to doing the things I enjoy. Getting to be part of PDaughter's senior year.

I couldn't do this without her, and Drummer Boy. And my dad, who loudly, lovingly shamed me into putting down the bottle (thank you, Daddy).

And you guys. Turns out I was lying to myself when I thought I was a better writer drunk. Maybe Hemingway actually was, but I'm not Hemingway. If you haven't figured that out.

So stick around.

When and if I make it to 60 days, I'll let you know. You'll probably know if I don't.

So.

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Moon, June, Prune

The other day, my darling Drummer Boy revealed to me that he had referred to me in conversation as his "fiancee." He said that calling me his girlfriend didn't feel "substantial enough."


Me love you long time.
I'm down with that. I don't dig using the term "boyfriend," either. After all, I'm on the brink of 50, and Drummer Boy is well over the edge. We're not what the young people call "young people." We don't Netflix and chill. And we're not boyfriend/girlfriend.

The kind of note we would pass if we passed notes.

So yeah, I have no problem with Drummer Boy characterizing me as his fiancee. We're going to get married at some point. That technically means we're engaged, right? I mean, he hasn't given me a ring, but what do I need a ring for? For what do I need a ring? Whatever. I feel no need to sport an expensive piece of jewelry that marks me as "claimed." Also, the notion of Drummer Boy - or anyone, really - "claiming" me like the last leftover slice of pizza is...well, let's call it ridiculous, which is nicer than saying totally fucked up.

You is my woman now.

Also, there's been no proposal, per se. Every so often I'll look at him and say something like, "We're going to get married eventually, right?" And he'll say something like, "Yeah." We are silver-tongued mofos, you guys. But here's the thing: We tell each other "I love you" about 30 times a day, every day. It's nauseating. We're complete saps that way. If either of us needs a discrete declaration of engagement at this point to figure out that we're in it for the long haul, we're probably too clueless to sign a marriage license, anyway.

Hoping this is a legally binding contract, honestly.

So I suppose Drummer Boy and I are now affianced. Whatever. On second thought, maybe I'll ask him to buy me a ring - a mood ring, which would be way cooler and also much more practical in our relationship than a diamond. Just saying.

Ain't love grand?