… through the bottom of their empty glasses
Deep breath… Funny, when it came to Intoxication this month, I wrote about 3 different articles, and non of them was . . . well, honest. My Grandmother always says “Write what you know”, so Gramma (yes, my 86 year old Grandmother – from time to time – gets copies of your posts!) this one is for you.
I’ve had three signification romantic relationships in my past. By signigicant, I mean, world changing. Not that there aren’t those of you out that didn’t change my course, but three that definetly changed my life in large ways . . . and all three I can tell you I should have questioned when they were looking at me through the bottom of their empty glass.
The first, was my first true love – he moved me, body and soul, taught me what it was liked to be loved more than himself, and that he would do anything for me. The problem was that unless there was a beer in his hand, and 2 more on the way, he wasn’t happy. We lived together, and I discovered that a bottle of wine a night could be consummed – meaninging 7 a week – minimum. And then he’d go out. At first, it was a beer after work – and then it was 7. . . and then he didn’t come home for thanksgiving. You’d think I would have been smart enough to move forward, but alas he was the one to end it. I should have questioned my thought process than. . .
The second, was a man who showed me what it was like to fall in love with his mind – to be romanced by words of wisdom, but intellegence, to be quoted real poetry, to have poetry writen for you – and then to see those words published . . . truely intoxicating. And yet – he felt his brilliance came from the bottle he was loosing himself inside. I watched, as the brilliance became a manic form of control – the writting an obsession, a need, a desire, an all consuming, mind altering brilliance. All through the bottom of the bottle. The writting went from extrodianary – to brilliant. It was unbeliavble. But something had to give, and what gave was me. I couldn’t be kept in the dark, a secret that was never completely revealed, and kept quite – along with the drinking. I read now that he is sober – and for that I am grateful. I know that his writing is better than ever – and for that, I feel he has been truely blessed.
The third was a man of honour, of strength, of duty. He was my protector, my guardian, and life line in a sinking ship. The thir was not a drinker, the problem was the denial that it was happening. I’m not sure I ever saw him drunk – though I have heard stories – but the fact was he wanted to be in the evironment all the time. I simply wanted to grow up by that time – and if you can imagine – had developed a bit of a phobia about men, me and booze. When that one went down – because he’d rather be at the bar, then with me – I realized maybe the problem wasn’t them. Maybe it wasn’t even the booze.
Maybe it was me.
I admit, it took a while to admit the fact – but I think I’m intoxicated, and addicited – truely addicted – to the idea of being in love. That Disney version of Prince Charming coming to sweep me off my feet. I know what I felt for these man, and others, has been a deep connection – and love would be the assumable word – but was it? Or, was I in love with the idea of who these men could be? What I could be for them – and where things could lead?
Now that I’m well and good past my 20’s (though, I don’t look at day over 25! Or at least that is what I tell myself as I put on that third layer of mascara), and I’m out dating again, I keep asking “What do I want? What do I need? What can he offer me?” I keep coming back to the statement I once heard, “I am looking for that sprak. . . that moment . . . when on that date, you look into their eyes, and know they are the one for you.” I wonder if that isn’t just Disney propaganda.
So, I leave you with this – I’m drunk, intoxicated, and addicted to the idea of love. My confession of the hour. And, I’ll leave you with a quote from the brilliant character of Charlotte from Sexy in the City:
“Damn it, I’ve been dating since I was 15, I’m exhausted. Where is he already!”