The Weight to be Me

“You know, there’s a reason you ain’t been up to my apartment, and I haven’t been to yours.” We’d been flirting for months, and our attraction to each other was gaining momentum – the “tension” was most certainly there. As we stood side by side in the freezing cold by my car outside his apartment complex, in Phil’s unique style, he was telling me we were going to take it really slow. But this wasn’t rejection, it was pretty clear he was into me. Then in all seriousness he says “Look. I don’t fuck around in the in the program…I don’t shit where I eat. Know what I mean?”

I knew what he meant.  

The “Boy meets Girl” dance in a 12-Step program has never been something I’ve engaged in. Screwing around in an environment I rely on to stay sober can be a slippery slope. Meetings are not designed to be a dating game for addicts. Of course plenty of people ignore that “suggestion,” we’re all human. But there’s a reason it’s not called “Well People’s Anonymous.”  

With one failed marriage to a fellow recovering alcoholic behind me (and we had been introduced by mutual friends, not through anyone in the program), I’d never intentionally used the rooms of a 12-Step Program to meet men. I’ve heard enough cringe-worthy stories from friends who’d find themselves running out of meetings to attend where they wouldn’t bump into someone they’d slept with. I wanted to avoid that discomfort at all costs. But in the decade when my ex and I were together, we had a lot of the same friends and attended almost all the same activities within recovery. It was fun at the time, but as a result, for a long while after we split, I’d find myself sitting anxiously in many a church basement praying that he and his new girlfriend would not walk through the door. I eventually ended up traveling well outside of my neighborhood for meetings, to not have go through the emotional pain that came from us having “shared” so many of the same program friends, and experiences. 

Around two years post-divorce, I came up with a plan to distance myself from the past and force myself to do some new things that would pull me out of the low-level blues that had become constant, and hopefully bring some joy back into my life. I’d always wanted to tap dance, so I signed up for lessons (how can you be depressed when you are wearing tap shoes?). Then I started to meet up weekly with a group of artists and creative people to share our monologues, music, poetry, etc. It was through that group that I was invited to join some fellow actors that performed murder mystery dinner theater in a local Italian restaurant. 

There were a few of us in the cast who were sober, and I even recognized a couple of people from the rooms, but I was relieved that this was mostly a new group of people for me to get to know and connect with. People who didn’t know or care if I was sober, or had an ex-husband. A fresh start. That said, I did recognize Phil amongst this group of new theatre folks – he was impossible to miss, this big bald New Yorker with the booming voice. He was the kind of guy you could hear coming before you’d see him. With his thick accent, people were always asking him “where are you from?” With unabashed pride he’d exclaim “Born in Manhattan, raised in Queens.” I kind of loved that he wasn’t remotely interested in losing his NY edge, or that his voice sounded like he gargled with glass.

I’d seen him around in meetings, but we didn’t actually get to know each other until we started rehearsals for the show. The two of us would have a good time exchanging our NY stories (as I’d lived there for many years myself), and at times we’d dive deeper into discusions about recovery and spirituality. He had a way of teasing me in a way that brought me out of my shell, and he would occasionally get flirty, which made me feel seen…and desireable. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I found myself looking forward to seeing him, and being around his over-the-top personality.

Turns out, we were both in a similar head space when rehearsals began. I was still feeling my way back to not being on the verge of tears on a daily basis, and slowly putting myself back out there. He was still licking his wounds from a relationship that had recently gone south, and from being out of work. So it was a time in both of our respective lives where neither of us had anything to lose by doing a cheesy show with a bunch of misfit actors that would eventually help us both come back from the depths of heartbreak. 

We were both living in Seattle at the time, and we discovered we had a mutual love and nostalgia for the New York of the 80’s. A time when there were no cell phones, social media, or dating apps. Where people hooked up the old fashioned way. And we’d come to find out that we had frequented many of the same clubs, bars, and other haunts. If we’d met a decade or two earlier I probably would have taken a hard pass on a guy like this, just on his demeanor alone. We might have grabbed a drink (or two) back in the day, but there’s no way we would have gone past having a drunken one night stand. 

Once I got past the bravado, I actually found myself quite attracted to his quick-wit and his shameless self-confidence. I found him an extremely funny, intelligent, cultured guy, who was as dedicated to his recovery as I was to mine. I really had to do my best to suppress the attraction that was simmering in those first weeks. At times it felt confusing, because in one moment he would come at me with a boisterous “You know? Not for nothin’…but you gotta great ass!” – then he’d be back to the business of the show, and just being gregarious with everyone. He even had a short-lived crush on one of the other actresses – who was much younger, blonder, and bustier. But it didn’t really bother me because I knew for a fact that although blondie appreciated all that attention, she wasn’t remotely interested in him as a potential boyfriend. At any other time, with any other guy, this would have been enough to have me give up and move on. But for reasons I still can’t explain, I was able to ride out all these highs and lows. I instinctively knew they were temporary. 

We would frequently hang out together at our regular post-performance cast parties. Then we moved on to grabbing meals or coffee together. After about four months of platonic meet-ups, one night he grumbled “So uh…the Keppler’s are havin’ their uh Christmas party, and uh…I know you’re goin’, and uh, I’m goin’, so uh…maybe we should uh…go togetha.” I knew this proposition was kind of a big deal. Our first formal date. Throughout the party it felt different being around each other. I noticed his chivalry as he opened doors for me, which made me feel special. He took my hand and stayed close as we interacted with friends that evening. It was romantic, and I was most likely glowing from the inside out. We appeared to be exiting the friend zone.

Not soon after the Christmas party, we met up at a meeting, and in a not so subtle moment of seduction, he says “So uh…you got an espresso machine in that condo of yours?” And in that moment, I knew there was no turning back. My place was a total mess, so I suggested we meet at a restaurant close to where I lived. I needed an excuse to run ahead and make it presentable. In all my excitement and nervousness, it ended up taking a little longer than I realized – by the time I met him at the restaurant I could see a look of relief on his face. Maybe he thought I’d changed my mind. Not a chance.

In a transparent moment he confessed“I just don’t have an off switch. I’m either all in, or nothin’.” I’d known for several months that I was “all in” – but taking the time to build our friendship, well, that was all new behavior. So I was kind of in awe of of both of us that we were really getting to know each other before falling into bed. Addicts tend to have issues with impulse control, so this was all new territory for me. 

We were signing off from one of our nightly phone conversations, when I said something to the effect of “Okay, Bub (had to give him a nickname) …now that we’re dating…” and in his trademark ball-busting style he interrupts me with “WHOA!! WHOA!! WHOA!! DATING?? DATING!!! We’re not dating! We’re just two people with common destinations who are willing to carpool!” As I sat there laughing hysterically at the nerve of this guy, I said “Yeah…hold on a minute dude…I have to find a pen and write that down before I tell you to go fuck yourself…because that right there is pure poetry.” 

In our first year together we trudged through some truly awkward moments. We were two jaded, vulnerable human beings who were still tending to emotional bruises from previous relationships, and we both had a healthy fear of not wanting to mix our recovery with our love life. But we managed to still find a way towards each other that was well worth the wait. And we both benefited greatly from mixing one rough around the edges New Yorker with a heart of gold, with a kind and patient woman who finally knew she could trust herself.

Seventeen years later, and one big out-of-state move, major career changes, financial ups and downs, a wedding, a house and two dogs, mourning the death of our parents, a friendship that is unshakeable as ever – and managing to stay sober through it all – well, low and behold…Bub and I are still happily carpoolin’.