Saturday, July 7, 2012

Never Date A Drunk

She was an alcoholic, I suppose. But to characterize her “condition” as a “disease,” as the American Medical Association describes it is to give her far too much credit. She was a drunk, a bad one, though she concealed it well. In fact, I’d never known an “alcoholic” before I met her.

When one couples that condition with a definitive sense of entitlement and almost clinical narcissism, according to a shrink, it equals a person who is absolutely incapable of living among others.

She was a nice or funny drunk. She was a mean spirited one. The psychiatrist said that it was probable that one of her parents, probably her father, was an alcoholic and highly likely that she was sexually abused as a child.

I was with her for more than a dozen years, and knew the issues. I didn’t think I could “cure” her. However, I was a sucker for her “promises,” none of which were kept.

Here is my new universal rule and counsel: Never date a drunk, recovering or otherwise.

I found myself without bread in the house, so I baked this loaf of honey whole bread machine involved.