I met him my last semester of college. We dated, off and on, for the next 6 years. Ironically we met at a bar. It seems life at that time was full of bars, parties, and drinking. Everyone we knew did it (alcohol and drugs). At the time I didn’t notice that he drank to a greater extent than most everyone else; he had open beers in his hand morning, noon, and night. I didn’t want to notice how he changed when he drank; he became loud and obnoxious, often kicking me or some of our friends. Rarely did he fall asleep at night, he usually passed out. And it didn’t matter where he was. He once passed out on the curb on the way home from the bars, and ended up losing his bike because when he woke up he didn’t remember where he was, much less that he had his bike with him.
There were many (thousands!) of times I cried myself to sleep. Not only because he had been mean to me, but because he cared so little about himself, so little about me. His life was drinking and partying, and I came in a close… well, sometimes I’m not even sure I placed. He was failing in school, he rarely even went. It’s hard to get up for an 8 a.m. class when you’re out drinking until 5!
Drinking made him abusive. Not physically but emotionally. It didn’t matter to him what he said or did while he was drinking. That’s what alcohol does, it takes away your conscience. He once told me I wasn’t invited, and could not go, to Remo to celebrate his birthday with him (my boyfriend!) and all of our friends because his ex-girlfriend was going to be there. You can only imagine how that tore me apart! Another night, on our way home from the bars, he decided he didn’t want a girlfriend anymore so he staged getting “mad” about something absolutely ridiculous and took off walking home. As I later found out he made it home in about 20 minutes. But I didn’t know that then. All I knew was that he was wasted and walking home (15 blocks or so) by himself. I ended up driving home, I was sober, often just drinking sodas at the bars by then, and calling his house to make sure he got home safe. His roommate answered and said he wasn’t there. I called back a few more times and got the same response (although it turns out he was sitting right there telling his roommate to say that). Finally I got back in my car and spent over an hour driving up and down the roads between his house and the bars to see if I could find him. All I could think was that he was laying in the gutter somewhere hurt or worse. The next day all I got for my concerns was yelling on why I was driving past his house at night. I believe he loved me, it’s just that his actions didn’t mirror his words.
“You can stand in the middle and see it either way
That’s just how it is, no one ever wants the blame
So she’ll pick up the pieces and pretend she just can’t
see
Cause all she’s looking for is some room to breathe.”
(Bryan White)
To find that room to breathe I had to leave my home, my job, my friends. All because I had to leave him. I had nothing left of myself to lose, I had lost it all. My confidence, my self-respect (how can I respect myself for constantly going back to that abusive situation?), and my trust in other people… but most importantly I had lost myself. I found myself getting defensive around him. I was turning into a moody person, nagging all the time. I wasn’t even really drinking anymore, but I was the one suffering. Leaving was the only way to get out of that cycle. An alcoholic doesn’t just ruin his own life, he takes everyone who loves him down too.
I left 2 years ago and moved to the bay area. I had seen him maybe 3 or 4 times in a year and a half… until last September. We ran into each other and started talking. He had given up drinking the “hard stuff” and had even quit smoking. He was working hard and was changing his life around. We even started dating again. It lasted almost 6 months. The first few months were great. I really noticed the change for the better, and was (am) really proud of him. His is a new person. But he still drinks occasionlly, and I couldn’t get past that.
Someone I considered a good friend constantly criticized me for commenting evertime my boyfriend picked up a beer. But how could he understand what that did to me, watching that alcohol passing through his lips, watching his attitude slowly change. At that point it didn’t matter that he had quite drinking “as much as he used to”, all that mattered was that it as happening again. And it was changing me… again. I am a nice person. I have a great attitude about things (I admit I do get upset, but not often). I’m easy going, funny, and a good friend. I’m trustworthy, honest, and I’m learning to trust others again. But all that started changing as soon as those beer bottles started showing up. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like he was back to drinking all the time, it wasn’t even happening all that often. But it only took that first beer, those first slurred words, that first time his head hit the pillow seconds before he passed out. It only took that first night of crying myself to sleep to realize it was starting over. In the 6 months we dated this final time, the only romantic night we had he had to do drunk.
I knew then that this relationship wasn’t going to last. The love I felt for him was not enough to put myself through hell again. And my nagging wasn’t doing anything to keep his love. I am a stronger person now. I am not dependent on anyone, and I know enough to do what’s right for myself. I deserve someone who will never be mean to me, someone who does not think a good time has to include alcohol.
I like to think that my ex-boyfriend and I will always be friends. I don’t know if that will happen, only time will tell. I have forgiven him and myself for our past, and I do not regret the last 6 months we spent together. I feel it was our way of getting closure.
I do know I’ll never forget him… my life depends on that!
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