Alcohol? What alcohol? It hasn’t crossed my mind all week.
Disclaimer: I am aware the situation outlined in this article is not unique to one gender or sexuality. However, it is written by, and from the perspective of, a straight woman. Feel free to change pronouns as you read to suit your situation.
I was offered an opportunity this week. I could have a drink and no one would ever have to know about it, or I could stay true to myself and my readers.
Pardon my language, but this week was total bullshit. Sure, it started on a good note. I finally got my first tattoo. I did quite a bit of writing for the blog. But somewhere along the way everything just fell apart.
This year marked my third, and final summer using dating apps. As someone that considers herself a romantic, someone that wants real, lasting love, I can honestly say dating apps are the absolute worst.
We all experience disappointment at one point or another, but that knowledge doesn’t necessarily ease the pain when it’s our turn to face it. I, myself, recently stared disappointment in the face and with the help of my lovely friends and family, I was able to cope with it fairly quickly. Much quicker than I ever could have in the past.
Week six of sobriety had the pleasure of blindsiding me with a major trigger. Nothing like unexpectedly getting dumped over text to make you wish you were still drinking.