#ITS VALENTINES DAY IM GOING TO HAVE A ROMANTIC DINNER WITH MYSELF YOU CANT STOP ME

[bucketspammer4life]

♡ the boxers on valentines day ♡

YOU THOUGHT I WOULDNT PLAN SOMETHING FOR VALENTINES DAY?? YOURE WRONGGGG

♡ Glass Joe ♡

If he has a valentine he'll take the day off for them and take them out on a cute little date, spoiling them with kisses and flowers

if he doesnt have a valentine, he'll just watch romance movies by himself and have some chocolate, if no one will spoil him he'll spoil himself

This man will buy so many valentines themed stuff its insane, he'll buy heart-shaped candles, heart shaped boxes, literally anything heart-shaped is his target since hes a sucker for heart shaped stuff

OF COURSE hes gonna have wine hes a wine aunt it runs in his family

♡ Von Kaiser ♡

If he has a valentine he'll show up at their door with flowers and some chocolate in his fanciest outfit and offer to take them somewhere for a date

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll play it off like its no big deal as if he isnt bitter about it and continue his routine as usual

He usually takes the day off on valentines day since his students will either bully him for not having a valentine or go "oooooo" And make him embarassed about his valentine

He'll just buy himself flowers if he doesnt have any valentines

♡ Disco Kid ♡

If he has a valentine he'll plan out a date for them and have a dance with them, bonus points if his valentine has a song that they love and end it with a nice little walk while holding hands

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll just listen to music and cry, he just feels a little lonely on valentines sometimes

will go nuts over love songs, he has a playlist made for every possible outcome of his valentines day including: getting dumped, having no valentine, having a shitty date, having a good date and a slow-dance playlist for when he needs it

♡ King Hippo ♡

if he has a valentine he'll plan a feast for them and take them stargazing at the end of the day, he'll spoil them with their favorite meals and lots of flowers with special meanings for every boquet

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll be dissapointed but move on fairly quickly since its not a death sentence, plus he'll just get himself some sweets and get on with it

will try to recreate the lady and the tramp spaghetti scene with his valentine (he'll win the spaghetti war)

♡ Piston Hondo ♡

If he has a valentine he'll get them flowers and take them out for a stroll in the wilderness and hold hands, he'll also make a cute little bento box for them with some sushi in the shape of hearts

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll just stay home and have tea while watching some documentaries

Also a sucker for heart shaped things, especially candles since he has a odd love for candles

Will write a poem for his valentine if they cant make it to the date and send some flowers along with it

♡ Bear Hugger ♡

If he has a valentine he'll take them for a date in the wilderness, he'll make a table and a chair from scratch for them and have ms bear as the chef, whats more romantic than a bear asking you if you want some risotto??

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll just rant to ms bear about it and just fish his sadness away

Will collect flowers with his bare hands for his valentine and carve a little statue for them along with a heart

Will end the day with a little slow dance in the forest and a kiss

♡ Great Tiger ♡

If he has a valentine he'll take them sightseeing and spoil them with lots of jewellry, he'll get them their favorite flowers and end the day with a movie night

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll just go shopping and buy himself gifts, if no one will do it he'll do it

Once tried to go on a date with himself but ended up being dumped by his own clone

will wear his fanciest outfit when asking his valentine out

♡ Don Flamenco ♡

If he has a valentine he'll spoil them and absolutely dote over them, perfume, flowers, plushies, clothes, pretty much everything, will have a dance with them and end the day with a little cuddling

If he doesnt have a valentine.. My god this man will sob for hours, he'll dye his hair black again and post a picture of himself while crying and get bullied to hell and back for it lmao while watching romantic movies in a huge ass pile of blankets

Also has a playlist for when he has a valentine and doesnt have a valentine, will listen to it according to the outcome

will dance with his valentine until they get tired, when his valentine is done for the day he'l carry them to bed

♡ Aran Ryan ♡

If he has a valentine he'll go exploring abandoned buildings with them and have a date there, he'll get them their favorite flowers along with a little teddybear with his perfume on it and end the day with him and his valentine planning out some pranks

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll wreak havoc on everyone else, he'll write them fake secret admirer letters and bait them out for a fake date and have them thinking they got dumped, he'll even add flowers and poetry to the letters

He'll usually write silly little letters to his valentine if they cant make it to the date/are far away

He'll get his valentine a drink if they let him

♡ Soda Popinski ♡

If he has a valentine he'll take them out for your typical fancy date but with a twist: hes chugging 30 bottles of soda per second, he'll also get them flowers and a T-shirt with a cheesy quote on it

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll just rant to his friends and have like 907 cases of soda

He doesnt have a idea what kind of flowers to get his valentine so he usually goes for daisies to be unique

He has a unexplainable love for valentines day special drinks, specifically soda and it shows more on valentines day more than any other day

♡ Bald Bull ♡

If he has a valentine he'll be over the moon, he'll get them flowers and jewellry and take them out to wherever they want, but he would prefer staying inside and just cuddling all day

If he doesnt have a valentine he wont pay much mind to it since he thinks valentines day is dumb anyway, he never really got asked out much since people were either too scared to talk to him or it flew over his head

PLEASE get this man flowers, hes a sucker for flowers, especially tulips & saffrons, if you do you'll get to live in this mans head rent free for 30 years, he'll be out here kicking his feet over you

He has no idea what to get as a gift other than jewellry and flowers so he'll just get stuff that reminds him of his valentine

♡ Super Macho Man ♡

If he has a valentine he'll take them out to a cruise ship and have some drinks with them, of course hes gonna go all out with the gifts hes super macho man

If he doesnt have a valentine he'll just check his mail since his fans are THIRSTYY, he'll also put a mirror in front of himself and have dinner with his own reflection and flirt with himself

If he feels lonelier than usual he'll just post a thirst trap lol

Thinks flowers are boring as a valentines day gift but will cherish any flowers he gets

♡ Mr Sandman ♡

if he has a valentine he'll be extremely happy but suprised like.. What do you mean youre going after the champion for a date... But he'll be really happy and a bit nervous, he'll take them out to a aquarium and watch the fish

If he doesnt have a valentine he wont care much, he doesnt care much for valentines day but finds the valentines themed stuff cute

He has no idea what kind of flowers to get for his valentine so he usually goes for his own favorite, oleander, he'll also get them a huge ass teddy bear

He'll write a cute little letter after the date to thank his valentine for being with him on a special day

[dwightkschrute]

In 2014 and 2015 I did a my year in review kind of thing where I, of course, reviewed it and accompanied it with a picture from that month. I somehow forgot to post 2016 (until now) and forgot to do it at all for 2017 but unfortunately, I am back with a really disappointing year. I was debating not putting myself through the legit pain of “reviewing” this year but I think of how I love going through my 2009-2010 posts and seeing how much I’ve grown so this is for you, successful and cooler future me.

2016 and 2017 were amazing but 2018 was my most promising year. My boyfriend and I were going to move in, I was going to start my dream job; everything was perfect. It definitely started out as one of the best years of my life! Then exactly halfway through the year everything changed and I was left having to pick up the pieces and completely restart, making it one of the worst years of my life.

I started January in Mexico, which was the best, but my family and I got home early in the month. I had quit my job the month before so I dedicated the entirety of this month to job hunting. Our friend (my bf’s bff who became mine and my brother’s bff early on)’s dad got a boat so it was like we got a boat too because despite the cold, we lived on it. (My boyfriend couldn’t go on the trip with us, which he was super bummed about (and that we had to spend like 10 days apart which was killer then), so he was the one to pick us up at the airport and he greeted me with a bouquet of flowers. Out of the many gifts/gestures he gave me, that was one of my favorites.)

February I started my amazing new job so life was back to 40 hour work weeks and not having much time for much else. I was always attached to the hip to my bf so almost every day after work entailed going out with him or having dinner with my family or his. That was my month. My favorite part of every February is Valentine’s Day and this one was as amazing as the rest. I don’t even have enough space (of the allotted space I give myself for each entry at least!) to describe that day. (My bf at our Valentine’s Day dinner. We finished our long day at this restaurant (so, so cool, once popular with Old Hollywood stars) on Hollywood Blvd and it was dreamy and romantic and amazing.) Oh man, I don’t have a lot of interesting things to say about March. Oh, my parents got Influenza (A/B/idk tbh), so it was two weeks of my brother, bf, and I taking care of them. My dad has a serious chronic disease so it was especially dangerous for him so it was a stressful time. Once we weren’t in hazmat suits anymore (no but really, we were gloved and double masked around them and kept them quarantined), I’d be at work or with my bf. I also started to get close with a co-worker, who I quickly became close friends with! (My bf’s two huskies. I’ve just loved that picture since I took it! I’ve never been loved by a dog more than the one in the back of this pic. Not even by my own! He has a special place in my heart.)

April was barbecues at my house or my bf’s, trying every brewery and bar around, hikes, bike rides, beach visits, baseball games, boat rides, late night cooking and baking. It was lots and lots of love and happiness and I would give absolutely anything to go back to those days. (My brother and bf grilling on Easter. This was a familiar scene, I have so many pictures of this exact scenario, yet looking at it just now made me so emotional! Stop! They’re just grilling!) May was so exciting! Very first day I got a new car! I was so happy! It was long overdue because my finicky, expensive Volkswagen had to go and I’d fallen in love with the new Honda Civic (I’ll admit I have basic taste but I don’t care!) so I finally bit the bullet and did it. This month my bf and I, after a long time of “oh wouldn’t it be nice!”, bit the bullet as well and decided to finally get serious about finding a place together. So the apartment search started, but we soon realized our home, Orange County, was super expensive. My bf, in that “ha ha jk but I’m down if you are” way, suggested we pick up and move to Oregon and I immediately agreed. It just felt right and despite us being the most careful and non-spontaneous people ever, we decided to do it! So we began to research, look for apartments but most importantly, jobs. (My car the day I took it home!)

Uhhhhhh, well, June hurts to think about! We went to visit Portland, where we decided we’d want to live because that’s where the jobs were, on a quick trip since it was strictly “business.” Portland was everything I imagined and more. We loved it and I think we loved playing house in our airbnb more than anything about the city. Back in LAX we came to the easy conclusion that though we lived Portland, that’d require a lot and for our first time moving out we’d like to stay close to home and above anything else, we just wanted to live together as soon as possible. We immediately started to look for places in LA, we spent the month apartment hunting, and towards the end of it, decided on one we really liked, one he begged me to please say yes to so we can move in already. I was so, so, so happy this month but what made me happier was seeing my bf, I swear, even happier than me. I seriously felt unstoppable and was beyond excited for our future. (I had a lot of Portland pictures to choose from but my bf and I liked this one because it reminded us of Always Sunny for some reason.)

In July, everything changed. To start, I left my job. I thought, new chapter in my life, new job coming, I’ll live really far, I should leave now. So I did. My last day was an emotional day because I loved my job so much and every single person I worked with. That very same day, my bf and I broke up. For unrelated reasons to my last day, to our moving in, to our relationship, etc. We had an amazing, amazing relationship but he has a lot of demons and issues/insecurities he has to deal with and conquer, and though I was aware and was there for him and would continue to be by his side no matter what, he decided that this was a battle he had to handle by himself and I figure before he got into a more committed situation. It didn’t have to happen, though. I hadn’t talked about the specifics of the breakup on my blog so  sorry for changing the mood of the post, but yeah, July happened and it felt like my world stopped. Really regret quitting my job now, huh? I was hit by two huge losses and changes right at the same time.  (I took this on my friend’s boat 20 tequila shots in, drunk and sad as fuck. Not to get fake deep but how sad. Literally on a boat, beautiful sunset, would rather die.)

August was a blur and I’m still not convinced I didn’t just dream it. God, alright, here we go, the rest of the year is a mess so get ready. I fell into a deep depression fast. It also didn’t help that my dad had to start getting radiation/infusions for his illness shortly after the breakup. I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed. I started dating someone else and then I dated another guy shortly after. I wanted to replace and/or forget and I really thought that’d be the solution. I was miserable when I was with them. I took absolutely any opportunity to get really drunk or high, and the opportunity came often so I spent most of my days desperately trying to not feel anything. The only time I’d feel okay was when I was extremely high and I couldn’t even think. Since I had a lot of savings for my out of state move, I had a lot of money to blow, which I did. I realized I even liked the feeling of the temporary “high” of spending a lot and receiving the stuff. I’d hang out with any friend who offered (out of boredom? loneliness?) and even ended up on a mess of a Vegas trip. Worst month ever. Maybe. (Here’s a positive! I like that bathing suit and my tiddie looks so round!)

When September came I realized two months had passed and all I had done was be a huge depressed mess. I no joke forgot about work. I just straight up forgot. I started to look for a new job, which hurt me so bad because I had to face the fact that it wouldn’t be my Cool LA Dream Job anymore. I stopped dating. Most importantly, I completely stopped drinking and smoking because it’d almost always make me sadder but also it scared me that I had no self control nor did I care. I saw a whole lot of my close friends and they, along with my immediate family, kept me afloat this month because time felt like it was going so fast. I couldn’t believe that at a blink of an eye it was night again and then a new day. Time had no mercy for me, please let me hold on. (Me at a baseball game. Tbh I’m looking at this thinking, did this really happen?)

October started out nice because my best friend of years, who I unfortunately had a falling out with three years ago, reached out to me. I’ll always give her all of the credit for doing that. I can’t begin to explain what this meant to me. It was a nice, bright shine of light that managed to shine through the dark clouds. Having my best friend is exactly what I needed. I’m a big believer in the universe acting in mysterious ways and though I had grown disappointed in its little surprise for me lately, this was the kind I always appreciate. I spent a good part of that month with her, catching up and doing things just like we did back then. It was like nothing had changed. That’s all I remember about this month, and a super fun Halloween! That day was probably one of the best days in months. (My best friend Rylee and me the first time seeing each other in 3 years. We’ve had our blogs for 8-9 years so please follow her for quality content)

November was rough. I was frustrated because surely things should had been better by then. I was still feeling so low, I was going to job interviews to no avail, I “relapsed” and had a high/drunk off my ass on a boat messy moment.. To make matters worse, I accidentally drove up on a cement divider in a parking lot and my airbags deploy, which is so expensive to fix, so my car was out of commission for a month. Then I got so sick and I rarely ever get a small cold. I seriously felt like I was cursed, even the smallest thing felt like an insult towards me. The one good thing is that since July I had been forcing myself to go to the gym five times a week. My mom said exercising was the only thing that’d help her feel that sweet release of seretonin, endorphins, dopamine, and all that good stuff when she was depressed so, though I enjoyed going to the gym before, I did it just for that reason alone. It worked and as another result I got like pretty fucking fit. Revenge body, you’re one of the few good things in my life right now. (I literally had no idea what to choose so I said fine, here’s a pic of the scene of the crime. Whatever.)

In December I turned 26. Which I hate, naturally. I went to a million more job interviews. I’m seriously so embarrassed to admit that but whatever, it’s the truth. (I have a degree, experience, and an awesome cover letter..I’ll keep blaming the curse!) What kept me sane was that we had different family members visiting from the very beginning of the month. Playing with an energetic, adorable baby kept me distracted and happy. Having so much company around also distracted me (slightly, but it helped!) from the fact that the holidays and my birthday would be quite different now. I’m one of those annoying Christmas lovers, usually at least. This year everything just happened and I didn’t care. But I survived December! (I don’t care. This is the appropriate representation of 2018 and how I feel at the end of it.)

Jesus if you’ve read all of this.. I’m sorry you had to read about the mess of my year but really more like the mess that is ME. Yknow those like “people my age I went to HS with vs me” memes? I seriously went from being that bitch with a good paying job, brand new car, a serious, great relationship with a promising future together (Like. We would color coordinate outfits! LMAO. We would have dinners with both of our families together. We were obsessed with each other. You’d roll your eyes if you saw any of this. I can’t get over how perfect we were, it’s hilarious what happened to us.) and then at the blink of an eye I went to not having absolutely any of that, casually dating (something I’d NEVER done) anyone who resembled my ex and sadly and drunkenly puking off the side of a pier. Who is she? I don’t know, I got whiplash. (Queen of parentheses and side notes, I know. But another thing about me is... I’ve never been affected by people leaving my life. I’m used to it. I’ve never been anywhere as affected as I was when my ex and I broke up. This isn’t normal for me, my ENTJ/Capricorn ass doesn’t know what this feeling is.)

Please curse that has been put on me, release me. Whoever is attacking my voodoo doll, calm down! Please! I’ve gone through enough sadness and loss. If 2019 is even slightly as bad, I’m going to be like that pigeon I reblogged the other day that’s like “fuck this I’m just going to sit here.” I can’t even make a cute but corny, hopeful “hope 2019 is great!” comment. I’m literally begging you...pleading you... I don’t believe in karma but after all of this shit, I better have something much better in stock for me. “Good things are coming!” I fucking hope so. Like, I’ll be even more annoying right now and say that it’s not fair that I didn’t get to have the future I was about to have. I don’t care about any cliche you may have for me. One door closes, everything happens for a reason, God has a plan, etc. No. Why did all of this have to happen? What can be better than the future I was going to have? I felt so unlucky. It all feels like a nightmare and I’m just waiting to feel whole again. Oh shit I got really intense. I know I’ll get over it and life will be good again eventually but for now, I am still so mad. I would have never in a million years guessed this is how my 2018 would go. 

So fine, I’ve accepted things now, so now I’m impatient and say please prove me wrong, 2019. I’m THREATENING you to be amazing!

[slipperysoap]

do em all

1: Do you have a crush at the moment?four actually *blows kisses*2: Have you ever been deeply in love?mmm yeah3: Longest relationship you've ever been in?just over a year i believe4: Have you ever changed for someone?dude my main personality trait is changing for people. im a human chameleon on this bitch of an earth5: How is your relationship with your ex?a lot smoother than it was when we were actually dating funnily enough6: Have you ever been cheated on?nah7: Have you ever cheated?Nah8: Would you date someone who's well known for cheating?NAH9: What's the most important part of a relationship?you gotta Like each other. its really easy to tell yourself you love someone and its easier to lust after someone but you have to Like them if youre going to be able to healthily make things work with them10: Do you like to be in serious relationships or just flings?both. i just like to love people11: When you are dating someone do you believe in going on "breaks"?if theyre necessary12: How many people have you ever hooked up with?like...... hooked up or Hooked Up13: What's one thing you regret saying/doing in a previous relationship?despite loving the shit out of love ive got a bad track record of being too distant at times. its not always something i can help but its something always something i feel guilty about 14: What age do you think is appropriate for kids to start having sex?im a kid. this question is fixed.15: Do you believe in the phrase "age is just a number"?depends on what situation its being applied to16: Do you believe in "love at first sight"?i definitely believe in lust at first sight but how do you love someone without knowing anything about them??17: Do you believe it's possible to fall in love on the internet?if i can do it anyone can18: What do you consider a deal breaker?chewing with your fuckn mouth open. you can be perfect but i swear if u make me look at your chewed up dinner i Will puke on you and leave19: How do you know it's time to end a relationship?youre not happy in it anymore20: Are you currently in a relationship?nah21: Do you think people who have dated can stay friends?uh huh honey22: Do you think people should date their friends?not if they dont want to???23: How many relationships have you had?f??????ive?? mostly unimpressive relationships24: Do you think love can last forever?i dont see why it couldnt in the right conditions25: Do you believe love can conquer all things?love can conquer Most things26: Would you break up with someone your parents didn't approve of?scoff27: If you could go back in time and give yourself one piece of advice about dating what would it be?'please for the love of god just stop being a little bitch to people you like'28: Do you think long distance relationships can work?yeah but boy it aint easy. kudos to those loving and living apart and making it work29: What do you notice first about another person?kindve depends on the situation huh30: Are you straight, bi, gay or pansexual?pan on the reg baybee31: Would it bother you if your partner suffered from any mental illness?no?? 32: Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?if so i was never told about it33: Do you want to get married one day?maybe? i mean. it used to seem like a pretty hot idea but now its just. youd better be pretty special if you expect a yes to your proposal34: What do you think about getting your partner's name tattooed?i think wed better be together for at least twenty years first because otherwise i cant risk anything35: Could you be in a relationship without sex?sure36: Are you still a virgin?tee hee37: What's more important: Looks or personality?both are equally important and anyone who says differently is a lying bitch38: Do you enjoy love films?some, but not really39: Have you ever given anyone/received roses?no but wow do i deserve roses40: Have you ever had a valentine?yeah baby41: What's your imagination of a "perfect date"?watching movies and sleeping. mmmm.42: Have you ever read "Romeo & Juliet"?yessir43: What's more important: Your partner or your friends?my friends oops44: Would you consider yourself "romantic"?like..... low key. low key.45: Could you imagine to date one of your current friends?Could i? ye. Would i?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯46: Have you ever been "friendzoned"?thatd imply me trying to make a move. unlikely.47: Which "famous couple" is your favorite?whos even dating who right now48: What's your favorite love song?me, going through my Love mix: inconclusive.49: Have you ever broken someone's heart?maybe! maybe.50: If you're single, why do you think you are?my face looks like a drowned sewer rat and im a bitch whenever i have a crush on someone51: Would you rather date someone who's rich but a douchebag or someone who's poor but a nice guy?date the rich guy. marry the rich guy. spend years loyal to his side. kill him and steal his riches in the middle of the night. find my poor love and take them into luxury52: Are you good at giving other people advices regarding dating/ relationships?i can definitely give it. whether its actually applicable is debatable53: Are you jealous of couples when you're single?nah. theyre just getting theirs honey54: How important is it to make a relationship official (p.e. on facebook)?0% important55: Would you consider yourself "clingy", "overly attached" or "jealous"?not really?56: Have you ever "destroyed" a relationship?no who has the energy57: Do you think it's silly to consider suicide because of a broken heart?i considered suicide when i spilled pop on myself there Are sillier reasons out there than genuine emotional pain58: Are you the "dominant" or the "submissive" part in a relationship?depends on the relationship i guess59: Have you ever forgotten important dates like your partner's birthday or your anniversary?yeah but thats just me baby. i barely know My birthday60: What's your opinion on open relationships?if theyre working out then good for them i guess?61: Who's more important: Your partner or your family?me62: How do you define "cheating"?doing things typically reserved for your s/o with? other people??63: Is watching porn while being in a relationship inappropriate?no watch porn use vibes get freaky on your own time64: Do you think Valentine's Day is overrated?a Little but like. i still soak it up every year and come back stronger each time65: Would you consider yourself a "cuddler"?Yes

[samanthasroberts]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

[adambstingus]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/167431371812

[allofbeercom]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

[viralhottopics]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2iTRz6N

from Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship