...Until January 21, 2010.
Living in a Beach Town comes with its own set of dating challenges. Being single comes with its own set of questions that start with “Why aren’t you married?”
No, No, No, Yes, No or Yes are the answers!
Have you been married? Are you gay? Have kids? Been engaged? Have a boyfriend?
So at this point in changing my life, leaving my job and moving overseas, the LAST thing I need is for the guy...the incredible, athletic, handsome, perfect, amazing guy, I’ve known for a year, to become close to me.
Did I mention he was incredible?
“You’re not going to be on a boat pining away for some guy are you?” my friend Rebecca asked over lunch.
“No, no. We’re just hanging out. He knows I’m leaving.” I say.
Did I mention he was incredible?
Whoever knows when it really happens? When you start to fall…
But nothing is that perfect, or should I say incredible.
NOTE TO SELF: A Wine, Beer and Food Festival is NOT a good place to unknowingly go with an alcoholic on a first date.
A secret life exposed itself. I was to tell no one. Alcohol was just one issue in a life of excuses. One by one the pain of the truth came up to bat, just in time for me to find justifications to spend more time worrying about his life than the mounting “to do” list of my own.
Between his lies and my denial, I was over my head and had never seen the ugly, up-close truth of alcoholism. To me, growing up in a non-drinking Mennonite family, having drinks now were fun and games and nothing more. Ignoring the signs, I thought that occasionally drinking too much meant drinking out of my shoe, holding bad dancing contests, or doing the moon walk: all which I have participated in.
But it’s an evil decease and I stared at it head-on like a surgeon at a cancer. His passing out and laying on a soaked mattress or pool of urine on the floor should have been a wake up call for anyone in love or lust. Although I cared deeply, I did know that I couldn’t help or change a thing for him.
The time together was very short yet would leave a deep cut in my heart and a lasting new impression of alcohol. Mr. Incredible would disappear, then reappear and then would become a regular, then infrequent text. Finally, after recently getting a text that screamed “I am not guilty of doing wrong...” I wrote back:
(Final Text to Mr. not-so-Incredible;)
Amazing to me that I am protecting a guy who lied to me and then chose to treat me like shit. Deals off. Girls change our minds. I fly to Italy soon. Sail to Greek Islands then thru the Med. Canary Islands, Cape Verde and Caribbean. Got prospect to work for Government after sailing since I have no criminal record nor have ever been exposed to someone like u; So afraid to live OUT LOUD. Take ur secrets and spread ur poison all the time thinking uv done nothing wrong. Shame on you for taking so much promise of ur life and screwing the world. Shame on me for believing u were real.
The next night, entirely by coincidence, I watched the TV show “Intervention” about families seeking an intervention for an alcoholic loved one. I felt a sad pity for him and my anger changed to disgust towards the decease. Sadly, I doubt he will beat it. I’m afraid he will continue to use his good looks and charisma as his ticket thru life until it’s too late. I pray I'm wrong.
Was it attraction? If my friends knew the truth, they would drag me to counseling. If my family knew the truth, they would pray. So, I brushed myself clean and realized I had been caught up in a huge distraction. A distraction that was hiding the pain of separating from my friends. A distraction that was overshadowing the fear of my unknown future. A distraction that was making me look away from the process of my life in Daytona coming to a close.
Living in a Beach Town comes with its own set of dating challenges. Being single comes with its own set of questions that start with “Why aren’t you married?”
No, No, No, Yes, No or Yes are the answers!
Have you been married? Are you gay? Have kids? Been engaged? Have a boyfriend?
So at this point in changing my life, leaving my job and moving overseas, the LAST thing I need is for the guy...the incredible, athletic, handsome, perfect, amazing guy, I’ve known for a year, to become close to me.
Did I mention he was incredible?
“You’re not going to be on a boat pining away for some guy are you?” my friend Rebecca asked over lunch.
“No, no. We’re just hanging out. He knows I’m leaving.” I say.
Did I mention he was incredible?
Whoever knows when it really happens? When you start to fall…
But nothing is that perfect, or should I say incredible.
NOTE TO SELF: A Wine, Beer and Food Festival is NOT a good place to unknowingly go with an alcoholic on a first date.
A secret life exposed itself. I was to tell no one. Alcohol was just one issue in a life of excuses. One by one the pain of the truth came up to bat, just in time for me to find justifications to spend more time worrying about his life than the mounting “to do” list of my own.
Between his lies and my denial, I was over my head and had never seen the ugly, up-close truth of alcoholism. To me, growing up in a non-drinking Mennonite family, having drinks now were fun and games and nothing more. Ignoring the signs, I thought that occasionally drinking too much meant drinking out of my shoe, holding bad dancing contests, or doing the moon walk: all which I have participated in.
But it’s an evil decease and I stared at it head-on like a surgeon at a cancer. His passing out and laying on a soaked mattress or pool of urine on the floor should have been a wake up call for anyone in love or lust. Although I cared deeply, I did know that I couldn’t help or change a thing for him.
The time together was very short yet would leave a deep cut in my heart and a lasting new impression of alcohol. Mr. Incredible would disappear, then reappear and then would become a regular, then infrequent text. Finally, after recently getting a text that screamed “I am not guilty of doing wrong...” I wrote back:
(Final Text to Mr. not-so-Incredible;)
Amazing to me that I am protecting a guy who lied to me and then chose to treat me like shit. Deals off. Girls change our minds. I fly to Italy soon. Sail to Greek Islands then thru the Med. Canary Islands, Cape Verde and Caribbean. Got prospect to work for Government after sailing since I have no criminal record nor have ever been exposed to someone like u; So afraid to live OUT LOUD. Take ur secrets and spread ur poison all the time thinking uv done nothing wrong. Shame on you for taking so much promise of ur life and screwing the world. Shame on me for believing u were real.
The next night, entirely by coincidence, I watched the TV show “Intervention” about families seeking an intervention for an alcoholic loved one. I felt a sad pity for him and my anger changed to disgust towards the decease. Sadly, I doubt he will beat it. I’m afraid he will continue to use his good looks and charisma as his ticket thru life until it’s too late. I pray I'm wrong.
Was it attraction? If my friends knew the truth, they would drag me to counseling. If my family knew the truth, they would pray. So, I brushed myself clean and realized I had been caught up in a huge distraction. A distraction that was hiding the pain of separating from my friends. A distraction that was overshadowing the fear of my unknown future. A distraction that was making me look away from the process of my life in Daytona coming to a close.
photo: Seriously?! ...after it was over, I found that alcohol that I had had for years had been emptied. Even a bottle of Cooking Marsala Wine.
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