I guess I shouldn’t JUST complaint about dating. I mean, there have been more than enough stories for me to share about that, don’t get me wrong, but maybe I should also mention the circumstances that have occurred while I was IN a relationship.
I used to be one of those for “better or worse” no matter what folks. Didn’t matter that my partner at the time got himself arrested at one point, thought it was OK to do drugs in the home where his children lived and didn’t share my viewpoint on what being faithful meant. By no means did I turn a blind eye to all that, I made my disgust known but for the most part he knew I was there for the long haul.
During this particular relationship, a dear friend of mine was having his 45th birthday party and I wasn’t missing it for the world. He and his supporting cast of characters are a sight to behold all on their own. Add alcohol to the mix? Hang on because it’s gonna be a wild ride!
The problem was I didn’t have a sitter so my partner was kind enough to drop me off and let me stay until I got my fill and then agreed to come and get me when I was done so I wouldn’t have to drive. I thought this was particularly nice of him. Come to find out later, of course, my ex had ulterior motives.
He instructed my friend to make sure I ALWAYS had a full beer in my hand and that a shot or two here and there wouldn’t hurt either. My ex hadn’t gotten some in quite awhile (from me at least) and I guess he figured if he got me tipsy that I would let my guard down. (Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE sex and don’t normally have to be plied with alcohol or anything else to get me in the mood but when the person you’re with is screwing ANYONE who will take him up on his offer, I tend to get turned off. Besides why should I give you the PLEASURE of being with me when any cheap whore will do?)
So drink I did, and drink and drink and drink. All the way up until the phone call was made to my ex that it was time to come and get me. I was pushed toward the direction of the car, buckled into the passenger seat and sent off to do the deed. Things were going well. I managed to get in the house, get undressed and into the bed. My ex, very excited about this aspect got into bed with me and started touching me….. when I promptly sat up and ran for the toilet.
I was ILL. The room started spinning and things were not so settled in my stomach as they had been just a few minutes before. I’m sure, as most of you can guess at this point I spent most of the night and some of the next morning on the bathroom floor praying for death.
Since that fateful night I have learned some very valuable lessons. I now know when enough is enough. I have found a fool proof way to cure a hangover. And I have learned that a man with a nasty trick up his sleeve will always get his in the end.
As for still believing in the “for better or worse” thing? It took me a really long time once that relationship ended but all in all I still do. It’s just gonna have to be a whole lot more better and a heck of a lot less worse.
Any takers?
