Pre-2019, I never got ready for a date without a glass of wine next to my makeup bag. There were no kisses that weren’t preceded by vodka. My clothes only came off after hours spent at a dive bar going shot for shot with Mr. Tonight.
Those cliched romantic scenes never materialised. No-one held the door open for me. I never shared pasta over candlelight. There was never a goodbye kiss at my doorstep. Only hungover taxi rides at ungodly times of the morning to the last place I remembered parking my car the night before. My story isn’t unique. In fact, if your drinking was anything like mine, you’ll probably find strands of yourself through these lines.
When I decided to stop drinking in December 2019, I had a boyfriend. Admittedly, we had nothing in common, but I was willing to settle. At least this way, I didn’t have to face the world of Tinder and Bumble as a twenty-something sober girl. Ultimately, and this truth wouldn’t come until much later – I was afraid of dating as my true self. My party girl persona was easier to tolerate and not just for the guy who was getting lucky that night. For me, too, it was easier for me to be anaesthetised and half-alive, all lipstick and no intelligence. Red flags look green after enough vodkas.
Turns out that braving dating apps as a sober twenty-something woman was like having an idiot target on my forehead. My dating apps were filled with messages like:
“What do you do for fun if you don’t drink?”
“I drink too much for this to work.”
“You don’t drink…like even on dates?”
I knew that I was no longer settling but I wasn’t convinced sober dating was any better. The thing no one tells you about sobriety is that while drinking may have been the catalyst for a lot of problems, it doesn’t mean not drinking solves all of them.
Many of us sober people are left with a big mess – ourselves. You can’t escape yourself. For me, I didn’t escape the hunger for male validation just because I wasn’t wasted anymore. I had to sit with the uncomfortable truth that drinking was just my way of dealing with this problem, not the cause of it.
As unfair as it felt, I didn’t immediately fall in love with another sober person and live happily ever after. Instead, I dated lots of not-sober men, drank a lot of ginger beers, had a lot of uncomfortable sober sex and after a year and a half of not finding my hallmark happy ending, I deleted my dating apps all together.
I spent this time connecting deeper with my platonic friendships while simultaneously becoming closer to myself. I got comfortable with nights alone on my couch. I bought myself flowers for my coffee table. I spent hours roaming the aisles of Target. I walked my dog and wrote poetry. I woke up early and never forgot to wash my face before bed. My sober life began to feel normal. My life was mundane, but I was in love with it. I couldn’t recall a time I felt so much like myself.
When I met Johnny last year, I wasn’t looking. I was almost two years sober, busy to the brim with responsibilities a drunk version of me couldn’t fathom and in a moment of boredom I re-downloaded Bumble. I swiped right on his profile because I thought he looked like the human version of a golden retriever, and he offered up a coffee date instead of drinks.
There is a quote I love by Adrienne Rich that I repeat to myself as I’ve fallen in love with Johnny: “I choose to love this time for once with all my intelligence.” I had to love someone this time - for once - with all my intelligence. Rather than dumbing myself down with drinks, in order to accept less.
And so, I did. Johnny came to me with the extroverted nature of, well…a golden retriever. He stuttered all the way through our first date and didn’t kiss me until our third.
We now spend most of our time singing songs we make up, dancing, kissing, and laughing at the unexpectedness of our connection. It feels like he has always been waiting for me. The fact that we could’ve missed each other doesn’t make sense.
He told me he loved me for the first time on the same couch I spent months alone on. I still roam Target and walk my dog. I still wash my face before bed. But I know now that I needed to learn who I was sober, I needed to learn myself before I could allow someone else to learn me too. I wasn’t ready for love before, because I wasn’t content on my own. I was always worthy of this love, but sobriety is the reason I finally believe it.
