Sex in sobriety? It’s the cold light of day, I am alone in my bed, and suffering a serious case of Monday morningitis. Diversion tactics used to mean a trip to the pub to obliterate another lonely week. To avoid today’s reality cocktail, I head for a safe fantasy world by focusing on the Encounters page of The Sunday Times. Umm, how would I come over? “Ex wine writer, recovering alcoholic with three sons” might not inspire many replies.
Before, I chose partners for their drinking prowess rather than their brains, looks or compatibility — that way my drinking didn’t appear out of kilter. When I say “chose”, this is an exaggeration. Newly divorced, my party trick of imitating the leaning tower of Pisa left me at the bar while others fell around me. I often opted for a threesome. Me, the bottle (magnum preferably) and whoever was still standing. With this kind of selection criteria, boyfriends were frequently outclassed as I plumped for the next vintage rather than a complicated ménage a trois. Thank God none of these unpalatable numbers had lasting finish and besides, I wasn’t much of a catch as I had become a self-obsessed, selfish, irrational lush.
Am I a better proposition now I’m sober? I’m certainly a cheap date, given that a pint of lime and soda costs only 80p. But the thought of a “relationship” scares me more than alcohol these days. Fellow recovering alcoholics do not recommend a new relationship in early sobriety, cautioning that heightened emotions may lead to a drink. I tried it anyway and, not surprisingly, it didn’t work. My behaviour was often less than seductive. Looking back, I can see I was vulnerable and needy. My new fixation was to look for approval and demand 100 per cent attention — a cling-on inviting domination and/or rejection.
Newly sober, I needed the safety net of other recovering alcoholics, and that’s where most of my social life migrated. Just as drinkers stick together, so do we. As the months pass, I find I can handle a mixed case. Witness a recent dinner party where friends were amazed to find me happily swilling ginger ale while they hit the bottle.
That’s all very well with people I know, but any blind date, stone cold sober, is another matter. Manhunting sober is terrifying. One early stab at relationship management took me to a singles evening in a nearby town. I should have known this was a bad idea, as I’ve always preferred doubles. As everyone else loosened up with a sharpener or two, without a drink inside me, I was tongue-tied. There’s no doubt that alcohol is a great relationship accelerator — it short-circuits the route to bed and is the prop for singles everywhere. Sober small talk is tricky and because my life is focused on recovery I felt alienated.
Advertisement
Am I scared of relationships? In acknowledging my alcoholism I realise that my judgment and intuition are still squiffy. To reach my pleasure zones, and rebalance personal reward systems, I have to change. This means no more quick fixes. I need to learn how to feel pleasure and satisfaction from life and to value friendships, both male and female, rather than craving perfect solutions or landing an instant soul mate. I still fear failure and rejection but my gregarious nature is slow to accept caution. Friends tell me I need to enjoy my own company. Once I have a balanced relationship with myself, perhaps I’ll project my passionate persona rather than my needy side.
Ultimately, I cannot risk compromising my sobriety just for a cuddle, so I must learn patience (never one of my virtues). But a girl can still dream. . .“Ex lush with good taste and hedonistic overtones, seeks sparkling soulmate. . .”
alicek@gxn.co.uk