Sober dating boston
A carefully constructed hipster with a trail of lively tattoos lining each of his arms, Steve was cute, unkempt, and stylishly unshaven.He ordered a mimosa as soon as we sat down, and mentioned that because he works from home, he goes to a bar every night “just to be around people.” (Apparently he’s never heard of restaurants or book stores or coffee shops or libraries or…) A few drinks in, he confessed that, a few years back, he was “a dog” who slept around and tried to collect as many women’s phone numbers as possible. ) Guys like Steve make “normal” men—a la Craig —look like dreamboats. I like a guy with quirks—heaven knows I’ve got plenty of them. Though I admit: Thanks to sobriety, I’m much saner than I used to be, and that’s definitely a good thing.When love and sex get mixed in, the whole shebang gets even stickier. But, sadly, Normal and I clash like hot cider and summertime.To be honest, dry dating hasn’t been as smooth as I’d hoped. Normal gives me uncomfortable side glances and keeps me at a perpetual distance. I learned this lesson the hard way after dating a man named Craig.But, like I said, I’m not looking to date someone too.... But it's not always a good thing for my romantic life.I decided to stop drinking when I realized that boozy benders were doing me more harm than good—when it started contributing to the deterioration of both two-hour dates and two-year relationships.
I thrilled at the thought of never having to experience another hangover.
So it was probably a good thing that I finally decided to stop drinking in the summer of 2006.
By then I’d suffered more than my fair share of embarrassing nights out.
Most of the men I dated in early sobriety were drinkers. Tall and dark with long eyelashes (my weakness), he was sexy in a skater-boy way (I never got over my sixth-grade propensity for Vans and bowl-cuts).
Not alcoholics, but average Joes: the kind of guys who had no trouble stopping after a couple of glasses of wine; the kind of guys who couldn’t remember the last time they puked up all 12 of the Stella Artois drunk the night before. He was a friend of a friend, whom I’d casually admired for months, and his warm, easygoing manner won me over right away.