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Abstract

rly 30s tend to like to tie one on. For a long time, I was always suspicious of women who didn’t like to drink the way I did.</p><p id="2d5b">In hindsight, I’d always chosen carefully. I’d picked women who either could keep up with my drinking or had the capacity to turn a blind eye to it. That’s usually how relationships started anyway. Over time, it became clearer that my drinking was a source of problems. Once the roller coaster ride was over, there wasn’t much of a reason to continue the charade.</p><p id="71c7">I wasn’t an angry drinker, but the bottle could become a source of arguments (<i>and canceled dates</i>). My jobs were harsh and wore me as thin as tissue paper, easy to tear and impossible to put back together. This often made me desire to become exceptionally numb on the weekends. Weekends started to bleed into weekdays, and my anger and frustration from the office would sometimes spill over into my life.</p><p id="c3fb">I was never intentionally cruel, but I most certainly could turn apathetic and numb. See that’s the problem with alcohol: It smooths out your rough edges and takes away the stress and emotional charge, but it also dulls out your passion and kills the romance. If you drink away the sadness and the anger, then you’ve also drowned out the excitement and the desire.</p><p id="78b2">Eventually when I became dependent, it got even worse than that. Then I never wanted to go out; my already trigger happy social anxiety could not be self-contained without copious pre-lubrication. Clearly, this was not solution to anything at all.</p><figure id="d077"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*oRNCq3bBCLlAokBR"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@guilhermestecanella?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Guilherme Stecanella</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><h2 id="106a">My Reflection in the Bottle</h2><p id="cf15">When I finally had the courage to give up and give in, I came to realize that I’d been using the bottle to hide from myself. The bottle had obscured the insecurity and fear that I never wanted to admit. Arrogant intoxication can sometimes be confused with real confidence, but nothing could be further from the truth.</p><p id="9680">The truth was that I’d been hiding from myself for more than a decade, and I had never grown up. I never learned to build my self-confidence from within. I always used liquid courage and the validation of others to protect me from the emptiness I fe

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lt inside.</p><p id="6dd2">I needed a clear and sober look in the mirror to see what parts of myself needed growth and repair. I had to clean out my psychic wounds from my insecure and anxious childhood and reconnect with my true self. Only then could I take off all the masks and the costumes that I’d learned to wear to shelter myself from sight.</p><p id="2c8e">I never got married because I never knew who I really was. I was afraid to admit this to myself — so I certainly couldn’t reveal myself to someone else. After 38 long years running from my shadow, I’ve finally learned to toss aside all the expectations of others and accept myself in all of my glorious imperfection. Maybe I’m finally ready to truly love another.</p><p id="6d75"><i>If you liked that, then perhaps you’d like these. But no pressure…</i></p><div id="6dae" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/therapy-takes-balls-697c2e5c630d"> <div> <div> <h2>Mental Health and Male Stigma</h2> <div><h3>The Real Reason Men Won’t Open Up</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*Ff7-T3P6r81M8TaY)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="b5fe" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/confessions-of-a-corporate-perfectionist-a5d3ab566e7a"> <div> <div> <h2>Confessions of a Corporate Perfectionist</h2> <div><h3>The Pursuit of Gold Stars and Performance Ratings</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*vDmIT1cAB4l5ljEX)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="29ef" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/how-to-go-from-seething-to-sex-d0451abe82c7"> <div> <div> <h2>How to Go from Seething to Sex</h2> <div><h3>Six Steps to Kill an Argument and Jump into Bed</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*-cGqZjUZAMs271ez)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

I Fell in Love with a Bottle

And my exes held on for as long as they could

As a serial monogamist, I’ve had my fair share of long-term relationships. Despite being nearly 40, I’ve never been engaged; my heart was always in another place.

At the time, I didn’t realize this, of course. In the moment, I was always all-in and fully absorbed to start. I loved the intoxicating romance of unbridled desire and the dizzying swings of emotion.

In many ways, these relationships were like riding a rollercoaster blind. I never knew what was around each bend. My pulse would speed up when I heard the clinking of the gears, as I rode to the top of a precipice, and I could feel the zero gravity drop in the pit of my stomach. Very visceral and volatile.

I now know that I can be a master idealizer. I was exceptionally talented at placing people on top of pedestals that towered high above me. It was a perfect place because the sun would blind me anytime I tried to look up close.

Another reason I was so absorbed in the beginning stages of a new romance was that I was loving the person that they reflected back to me. Romantic partners can be a mirror to the self. They have the ability to reveal both the best and the worst in you. It turned out that I was in love with the validation I felt from these women idealizing the passionate, romantic face I put forward.

And not only that. Passionate romance is called intoxicating because it actually is. Especially early in a romance when the physical attraction is magnetic and intellectual stimulation most acute, our strong desires activate the pleasure centers in the brain, ultimately giving ourselves dopamine hits just as though we were really on a drug.

Ring Finger Wrapped Around a Bottle

I never got married because I was already spoken for. I’d fallen in love with the bottle, and it consumed every part of me available to give.

Early in my romances, this was never a problem because newly connected couples in their 20s and early 30s tend to like to tie one on. For a long time, I was always suspicious of women who didn’t like to drink the way I did.

In hindsight, I’d always chosen carefully. I’d picked women who either could keep up with my drinking or had the capacity to turn a blind eye to it. That’s usually how relationships started anyway. Over time, it became clearer that my drinking was a source of problems. Once the roller coaster ride was over, there wasn’t much of a reason to continue the charade.

I wasn’t an angry drinker, but the bottle could become a source of arguments (and canceled dates). My jobs were harsh and wore me as thin as tissue paper, easy to tear and impossible to put back together. This often made me desire to become exceptionally numb on the weekends. Weekends started to bleed into weekdays, and my anger and frustration from the office would sometimes spill over into my life.

I was never intentionally cruel, but I most certainly could turn apathetic and numb. See that’s the problem with alcohol: It smooths out your rough edges and takes away the stress and emotional charge, but it also dulls out your passion and kills the romance. If you drink away the sadness and the anger, then you’ve also drowned out the excitement and the desire.

Eventually when I became dependent, it got even worse than that. Then I never wanted to go out; my already trigger happy social anxiety could not be self-contained without copious pre-lubrication. Clearly, this was not solution to anything at all.

Photo by Guilherme Stecanella on Unsplash

My Reflection in the Bottle

When I finally had the courage to give up and give in, I came to realize that I’d been using the bottle to hide from myself. The bottle had obscured the insecurity and fear that I never wanted to admit. Arrogant intoxication can sometimes be confused with real confidence, but nothing could be further from the truth.

The truth was that I’d been hiding from myself for more than a decade, and I had never grown up. I never learned to build my self-confidence from within. I always used liquid courage and the validation of others to protect me from the emptiness I felt inside.

I needed a clear and sober look in the mirror to see what parts of myself needed growth and repair. I had to clean out my psychic wounds from my insecure and anxious childhood and reconnect with my true self. Only then could I take off all the masks and the costumes that I’d learned to wear to shelter myself from sight.

I never got married because I never knew who I really was. I was afraid to admit this to myself — so I certainly couldn’t reveal myself to someone else. After 38 long years running from my shadow, I’ve finally learned to toss aside all the expectations of others and accept myself in all of my glorious imperfection. Maybe I’m finally ready to truly love another.