Everyone has an addiction of some sort, right? Some people over-eat, some people snort blow, some people shop until their house payment is gone, some people gamble, some people lie, I mean everyone has SOMETHING, right? So, when addiction shows it's lovely, glittering self, what does everybody else do? I'm asking because my addiction won't stop text messaging me lately and I'm trying SO HARD to keep this clean and sober thing going for another 20-some odd days. But, isn't that the very point and nature of an addiction? You typically cannot possibly turn it down. It texts you from a city four hours away and beckons you and you cannot, physically cannot, refuse to listen to it. And it keeps speaking in that hot Spanish accent....OK maybe I've gone off track.
So, I like hot guys. I really like really hot guys. Ms. Busy and Important seeing a hot guy is like Oprah seeing an educational need in Africa--it's going to get handled! Recently I took a little trip to a very well-lit city and met possibly the most beautiful man walking around the planet at this moment. He was tall. He was foreign. He spoke with an accent. He yanked my head back at the bar and kissed my neck telling me he didn't, "Give a ****," about the people trying to order drinks around us. Needless to say, I was impressed on all accounts by The Spaniard. But in all the fun and excitement I somehow gave him my phone number. My real phone number. I also somehow saw him every night I was in the bright city. I also somehow have been responding to his text messages for weeks now. Somehow.
This poses the question: how do you get to a point where sobriety feels like something you want???? I decided to have 30 days of hot man sobriety until Mr. Magical came home (2 weeks now!!!!) This was...is...a firm decision made out of my own desire! And then....that stupid Spaniard was leaning against the wall looking like pure sex and staring a hole through me! How strong is a person supposed to be??? Luckily 4 hours of driving separates us. Luckily I have no desire to break my sobriety because I really am THAT excited about Mr. Magical's homecoming....but it's like a twinge. You get flashbacks. You know how great it could be if you just simply hopped in your car and headed that way. You keep answering these stupid texts. You keep remembering he pronounced Brazil "brah-sssil". You recall how he said he, "loves in Spanish." Are we all following my drift here?
Is this just text book addict stuff? Me and the cokehead and the high-roller and the 700-lb-man all keep scratching that itch in the same needy, pathetic way? They feel that urge, that twinge, that deep-seated knowledge that for a little bit, this is going to be AWESOME, just like I do? The way I flirt is the way some people shoot up? That's....weird. Technically, I'm not doing anything wrong with my addiction though. I'm not in a commited relationship, yet. I'm free to flirt and dance and have my neck bit on a bar by as many Spaniards as I damn well please. But...it's gotta stop at some point. To quote In Her Shoes, "Middle-aged tramps aren't cute." So that's the cutoff? Once I get commited (no pun intended), or my body isn't quite so hot anymore, I no longer covet the seduction of Latino men (or whatever, insert your addiction here)? I suddenly wake up to a maturity I've yet to meet and I'm all cured? Or is it that hot men stop looking my way because I'm no longer the hot chick in the room? How incredibly, horribly, disgustingly depressing.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, we have to stop the addiction somehow, but it's going to suck. I mean, we all got addicted because it felt great. It was exactly what we wanted. It was a distraction. It was so much fun. It was 4:30am and he was cheaper than a taxi--whatever, I'm just saying that all bad behavior, once we KNOW it's bad, has to change or we'll never evolve past this weak thing we are today. I don't want to be a weak thing. I want to hear a Spanish accent coming from big, pouty, perfect red lips, and huge, round, brown eyes and have my response be....oh who am I kidding??!!! Cue the melting! He has perfect lips and a hard, manly body and a Spanish accent for freaking sake! I'm not going to grow an iron will against THAT! So, my only hope is to change my phone number. Good luck to the rest of you. When in doubt, chicken out...change your number.
