My first weeks on the site were choppy, but I soon became accustomed to the routine. The coy banter that allowed you to tease out someone's personality.
After I got sober, I worried I'd never have sex again.This may sound dramatic, the kind of grandiose proclamation a teenager makes before slamming the door to her room.I felt so sexy in those moments; it only followed I must have looked that way.Now I realized what a sadistic game drinking played. We both baby-stepped toward each other, one refusal to lie at a time.I'd had quiet sex, and giggling sex, and sex so delicate it was like a soap bubble perched on the tip of my finger. I didn't want to watch some guy's face fall when I ordered a Diet Coke and then endure the pecks of his curiosity.
I knew such joy could exist between two people, but I had no clue how to get to it anymore. So my "About Me" statement began "I used to drink, but I don't anymore." I've had stronger openings, but this one was good for now.
Back when I was dating my college boyfriend Patrick, who was sober, he would pull away from me when I was buzzed and handsy.
"You smell like a brewery," he'd say, and I didn't get it.
Booze had given me permission to do and say anything I wanted, but now that I was sober, the only thing I wanted most days was to watch Netflix.
It's not as though every intimacy in my entire life had been warped by drinking.
I said no to the smart guy who wasn't attractive to me. I said no to the graphic designer who tried to kiss me one night. I ran the pool table (twice), and his eyes roamed along my ass as I lined up my shot, and I was surprised to find I liked that.