July rolls around and in this round about way I'm introduced to this guy that works with a friend of mine. He's cute. I'm single. I give him my number on Thursday. He calls and we set something up for Friday. I'll just refer to him as Bud.
Bud and I meet at Outback and have a great dinner. I don't want the night to end just yet so I invite him out with my girl friends and I for drinks. He imbibes, I don't. Someone has to drive right? We have a blast. He tells me in the car on the way back to his car that my friends aren't like typical girls and that we all rock. Awesome.
I guess you could say that Bud and I start dating. We spend a whole bunch of time together. I meet his friends. He comes to a party at my house. We hit the month mark. I start spending Saturday nights at his house. This is when the trouble starts. Never mind a friend of his has moved in with him and is the roommate from hell. Bud is a drinker. Serious drinker. I learn that he has to have a beer as soon as he wakes up in the morning. Drinks until he goes to work. Gets off work and drinks until he passes out. Not cool. I hide this all from my friends and family who of course already know (they are some smart ladies, let me tell you).
October rolls around and I can't take it anymore. I'm miserable. I have developed a smokers cough from being around all the second hand smoke. (Bud also smoked. Huge turn-off for me. What was I thinking?) Things end. I won't go into the details.
Dating an alcoholic is never fun. Dating someone who doesn't realize that they are an alcoholic is even worse. Drinking more than 12 beers in a 24-hour-period is not normal, and is not healthy. Drinking from the minute you get up until the minute you pass out is never a good sign. I was being bad. Bud was a huge ego boost for me. Looking back I don't know how I could have thought that at the time but oh well. We all learn from our mistakes right?
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