In it, I downed a glistening pint of golden ale in a chic pub on a summer day. “You know that.” I woke up disoriented and shaken from this nightmare, as if a bad guy had chased me down a dark alley. The reasons I quit drinking are myriad, and typical. See, a year after I quit drinking, the relationship I was in fell apart.
I drank it mindlessly and quickly, so that its buzz hit me before I’d even realized what I’d done. But a chaser of relief quickly followed: I hadn’t had a drink after two years and nine months of sobriety. ) I wasn’t dating some deep-voiced guy who refused to acknowledge that even one drink would not be OK for me. I could tell you that story, but it would be like every other you’ve heard. This is typical, too, and if you want to see an accurate version of how it all unravels, then watch the movie Smashed.
In her book Drinking: A Love Story, Caroline Knapp dedicates an entire chapter (titled, of course, “Sex”) to this troubled combination.
“Almost by definition alcoholics are lousy at relationships,” Knapp writes.
You may also want to consider volunteering at your local LGBT Center and/or host a social gathering or activity with your sober lesbian friends (having them bring their friends) to meet new people and prove to yourself you can meet women in a new (non triggering) environment.
More often than not, it makes me feel insecure and nervous.
I’m essentially exposing myself to another human being and asking him to please like what he sees.
The more I thought about it, the more I began to grasp the often-messy consequences of drinking while dating.
There was that guy I took home whose name I didn’t remember.