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 (212) 870-3400
U.S. DEPARTMENT OF TRANSPORTATION
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13 Drinks and Counting
“Hey Kay, ‘Pride and Joy’ is playing at the Great American Music Hall and the whole gang is coming to town, let’s party.” Bryan said this with great enthusiasm for he knew how much I loved the group and he also wanted to introduce me to some of his college friends who had moved away. I was ecstatic for it had been many years since I had allowed myself to go to a club where booze was the order of the day. It was 1986 and I had been recovering from a troubled codependent relationship with a man who died of alcoholism. I missed socializing and I missed dancing! I thought how fun it would be to be able to party with a man who didn’t drink. Bryan and I had been together three short months but I hadn’t seen any indication that he was interested in alcohol.
I went to great lengths to plan my outfit for the evening. I wanted to look as cool as possible, since I was so much older than Bryan, and wasn’t sure how his friends would take to me. I chose a white angora sweater with a form fitting black skirt slit up the right side. My heels were black, high and sexy. I concentrated on looking good, covering my fear of being in crowd of people smoking and drinking.
Seven couples planned to meet at the club and I was nervous. As we filed into the upper dance floor overlooking the band I was aware that all of his friends, guys and gals, were checking me out. I didn’t know what they were thinking but my imagination was running wild; ‘Is she really 19 years older than Bryan? Why would he be interested in someone so old?’ One by one I was introduced to the whole group. The women all gathered around me and we sat for awhile listening to the music and talking before we started to dance.
Shirley, the wife of one of Bryan’s classmates said to me, “I didn’t know what to expect meeting you. You are beautiful, a lovely woman.” I thanked her. I was shocked and relieved that she was helping my anxiety dissipate.
I had never danced with Bryan and was thrilled when he chose a slow ballad for our first dance. It was romantic and soothing. When the lead singer belted out the next song, which was much faster, one of his friends asked me to dance. I was thrilled because I could tell Bryan wasn’t comfortable on the polished wood floor with the more energetic sounds pounding from the band. I learned quickly that he didn’t really like to dance. Likewise, some of the gals didn’t like to dance either, so I was kept busy and happy dancing with many of his guy friends. An hour or so must have gone by and I didn’t even see Bryan. Dancing had always been one of my great loves and it had been at least 15 years since I had been to a club. This was fun!
I started sweating profusely and wished I had worn the sleeveless black silk top one of my first choices. It was time to find Bryan and connect with my beau. As I approached our table I noticed him holding a half empty glass of a drink I couldn’t identify. He was sitting with one of his friends and the table was filled with empty glasses and bottles of beer. My stomach muscles immediately tightened. I thought, ‘He told me he didn’t drink, it must be soda.’ I couldn’t help myself and said, “What are you drinking?” He looked at me strangely like a kid looks at his mother when caught doing something wrong.
“Tom Collins,” was his answer.
“Tom Collins, I thought you didn’t drink!”
“Why are you so bent out of shape Kay? I am just having a good time, aren’t you?
“I guess I thought when I asked you a few months ago if you drank and you said no, I assumed you would be drinking soda tonight, like I am.”
“When I told you I wasn’t a drinker I meant I wasn’t alcoholic,” he replied curtly.
I quickly ‘eyeballed’ the table and counted five empty highball glasses in front of him and four beer bottles belonging to his buddy. Just as I finished my inspection the waitress removed all the empty glasses and bottles on the table. I felt sick. I actually believed we could go to a club, dance, and have fun without drinking. I must have been crazy. Just at that moment Bryan took my hand and led me to the dance floor. My emotions were beginning to spin like the music, and panic was setting in. I had fallen in love with another alcoholic, I was sure of it!
For the rest of the evening I watched Bryan like a hawk. I found myself counting every drink he drank, feeling helpless and out of control. I did continue to dance with his friends but I lost all my passion. The combination of the loud music, the smell of smoke and my exaggerated fears began to ‘do me in.’ I thought to myself, ‘This man is living with me and I am going to go down the slippery path to hell again! What have I done? Oh God, I am scared!’
I counted 13 empty glasses and was convinced they all belonged to Bryan. Minutes faded and melted into hours. Around midnight I couldn’t stand it anymore. I walked outside without saying goodbye to him or anyone else and hailed a taxi to take me home. I was not going to drive with someone who was drunk! The ride across town was reminiscent of my ‘not to distant past.’ My feelings were frozen and locked inside my body but this time I didn’t shut down completely. I had enough Al-Anon and therapy to give me the strength to see the situation truthfully for what it was, or so I thought.
When I got inside I ran to the bathroom and vomited the few club sodas I had consumed. With my trusted heating pad, I took to the bed and dreaded Bryan’s return.
As soon as I heard his key in the door, I buried my head in my pillow. He came to the bedroom and wanted to know why I had walked out on him without letting anyone know where I had gone. He seemed truly puzzled and disappointed by my behavior. I chose not to discuss the situation until morning when I thought we both would have clearer heads.
When I awakened the next morning I felt deeply saddened by the whole experience. I asked that we have a talk in the kitchen. “Bryan, you know I have fallen in love with you but I just can’t live with another alcoholic. I truly believed you didn’t drink. I think it is best if you move out.”
“Kay, I am not alcoholic. If I didn’t know better I would think by your actions that you were alcoholic. You were the one throwing up, not I. What can I do to prove it to you? You are worth it to me and I really don’t want to move.”
“Can you go six months without taking a drink?”
“Yes I can. If that is what you want I will show you I am not allergic to alcohol and I am not alcoholic. I’ll go even longer if you wish.”
Bryan went over eight months without a drink and took his first drink at our wedding later that year. We are celebrating 20 healthy, happy years of marriage this December 2006. Because I lived 40 years immersed in the family disease of alcoholism I misjudged him. I learned a valuable lesson from that experience. Just because you drink doesn’t make you alcoholic. More importantly I realized that instead of paying attention to the consumption of booze of another person, I need to concern myself with my own needs, growth and happiness. What about you? What About You Archives Read my included articles on Recovery Times: I AM HEALTHY and Older Woman, Younger Man. Visit my website:
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