Shots

I just got back from taking my friend's dog for a walk (isn't she a cutie!). On the way to my bank, we ran into a couple of friends at a neighborhood restaurant. While he went back inside to get his laptop, she told me she had just walked down the street and he had three more shots in the fifteen minutes she was gone. It was 5:10. A time most people are still at the office with only dreams of happy hour.

I've seen him in this scenario dozens of times, and she's almost as bad. Together, they're toxic. He told me he loved me about five times in the few minutes we talked. It's hard to not love him back. At the same time, my heart breaks.

Drinking is a tough topic for me. I'm no teetotaler by any stretch, but my first husband is an alcoholic. He was the guy everybody liked. Handsome, Marlboro Man look. Happy. Good natured, well most of the time. While we were dating, we lived a very social life with friends and drinking almost every day. After we married and things calmed down a bit, the drinking didn't. He started before I got home from work and passed out on the sofa by eight o'clock every night. Rum with a splash of Diet Coke was his poison.

I only saw him sober for about an hour every weekday morning, Saturday mornings and Sundays. He was typically on the sofa all day on Sunday, but just not passed out. Then he started hiding the bottles from me. I may have been young and naive, but I wasn't stupid.

I was married to a stranger.

He blamed me for his drinking. I knew it wasn't my fault but it still crushed me with guilt. Anyone who's ever been close to an addict knows what I'm talking about. Divorce at that age was hard. I had to learn to cope again and not blame myself.

I don't know where he is today, and I still don't enjoy rum. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and a burn in my heart.

A lot of people drink a lot of alcohol around here. It's part of the singles scene. And shots area usually what puts them over the edge. And there's rarely only one. People have told countless stories about the interesting places they woke up and didn't have a clue how they got there. Outside. Inside. With a penis drawn on their forehead. Wearing women's clothing. And they laugh at themselves when they tell the stories. Then there's "If he doesn't remember, did it happen" that will never happen again.

"Life's too short not to remember," I told someone recently.

"I have plenty of time to remember," he responded. How does he know?

Please think twice before you drink that shot. Over time, it can hurt the people who care about you as much as it will hurt you.

Love to the single girls,
Addison