I love talking about relationships in A.A. meetings! Now that we’ve worked the steps we’re all just so damned healthy. Right? Like me. My Sponsor told me I’m well enough to date now. He just put in one provision: I have to date women my own age. I just turned 50. So naturally I’m looking for two twenty-five year olds with Daddy issues. I’ll tell you, I’m not having a lot of luck. I’ve backed off the identical twins thing, they don’t even have to be sisters. They can just be best friends. As long as they dress the same, cut their hair the same… You know what I’m saying.
Now that we all know exactly how healthy I am…
Here’s what I believe would be a perfect relationship: one that ends without a restraining order.
Here’s how you can tell if that’s going to be a possibility: ask her about her last relationship.
I dated one woman, 20 some years ago, told me about her ex-husband. Said he was a “Pathological Liar” I thought to myself: “How does a Pole Dancer with a GED know what ‘Pathological’ means?”
Two years later she’d given me a son, the boot, a restraining order, and my own Clinical Diagnosis.
Five or 6 years ago I dated another woman (there were a few in between) who’s ex-husband was a “Narcissist“. (I had to look that one up! Folks, if you have the means, become a narcissist! It sounds fun!).
Six weeks later I had my walking papers, another restraining order, and another Clinical Diagnosis.
Here’s a funny story.
Note from Editor: Don’t start a story with “This is funny”. It’s like saying “I’ve got a huge dick” before you screw. Even if you’re right you sound like an asshole.
About 7 years ago I’m banging steroids and I’m pissed at the world and having a lot of troubles, even though I’m not drinking. I go to a therapist.
She takes one look at me in my Python Boots and my long hair and my handlebar mustache and my gold hoop ear rings and my wife beater t-shirt to show my brand new McMuscles and my brand new Barbed Wire tattoo and says: “Man, you got a lotta Macho Shit goin’ on!”
Swear to God! First words she said to me!
I decided to establish who was in control right away, so I leaned back in my chair, hooked my thumbs around my Werewolf belt buckle, rolled my massive shoulders and asked her in my most patronizing voice: “Tell me, what’s the ICD-9 code for ‘Lotsa Macho Shit goin’ on’?”
She smiled and said: “You want a Clinical Diagnosis, get a girlfriend. You wanna find out why a Computer Programmer at a mid-size health care company has to dress like a Hell’s Angel on a Death Run to feel good about himself, talk to me!”
OWWW! Damn!! That’s WAAaay too much Truth for the first 30 seconds of a relationship!
I checked my Balls at the door from that visit on.
What I’m looking for in a woman is one who, when asked about her last relationship, says: “He was a nice guy. It just didn’t work out.”
Wow! That is Sexy!
I’ll tell you why: She’s worked the Steps. Or her approximation of them if she’s not in the program.
Here’s how I worked the steps (4th or 5th time through):
I put everything I did to her on one side of the paper, and everything she did to me on the other. Then I went through and crossed out everything on Her side that I didn’t know for sure, because I remember in the Big Book on page 66 it say’s: “… the wrong-doings of others, fancied or real, had power to actually kill.” There are many places in the Big Book that it tells me I’m crazy and I imagine — and actually believe — things that aren’t true. Realizing that has been one of the most important parts of my recovery. So I ignored the stuff I only imagined she did.
Then my ever-diligent Sponsor made me add stuff to my side that she didn’t know about.
No! That shit doesn’t count!! If I’m only allowed to look at the stuff on Her side that I know, then the stuff on My side should only be the stuff that she knows! Right? Problem is, better conclusions are derived if I disclose all.
Without Full Disclosure:
What I did: We were dating
What She did: She became distrustful
Conclusion: She’s a clingy, insecure bitch
With Full Disclosure:
What I did: I cheated on her like 400 times
What She did: She didn’t trust me
Conclusion: No Shit!
Next is I removed all chronology. Why? Because I fight like a little kid. When my kids fight it’s always the same thing:
“She hit me!”
“He hit me first!”
“Well, Father, strictly speaking, that is true. However, what she is failing to disclose is that before that she called me a Doo-Doo Head. So, as you can see, hitting her was well within my right!”
“No, Father! That’s not the whole story! You see, before I called him a name he changed the channel, and that was my favorite show. So he was in fact acting like a Doo-Doo Head. Everything that happened after that was obviously his fault. Please explain to him his error.”
That’s usually about where I stop the argument. Once, though, I let it go to see how far back they’d take it. The whole thing rumbled to a halt when my daughter claimed that it started when her older brother wrote “Sarah is a Lesbo!” on the wall of the uterus before she was conceived. My son and I both agreed that took it.
I’d like to tell you that my arguments are much more mature, but they aren’t. The Big Book warns me about this. On page 62 it tells me:
“Selfishness — self-centeredness! That, we think is the root of all our troubles. Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking and self-pity. We step on the toes of our fellows and they retaliate. Sometimes they hurt us, seemingly without provocation, but we invariably find that at some time in the past we have made decisions based on self which later placed us in a position to be hurt.
“So our troubles, we think are basically of our own making. They arise out of ourselves, and the alcoholic is an extreme example of self-will run riot, though he usually doesn’t think so. Above everything, we alcoholics must be rid of this selfishness. We must, or it kills us! God makes that possible…”
So the Big Book tells me I do the toe-stepping and they do the retaliating. I’m going to choose to believe that. So now I had to look at My list and act as though I did all that stuff first, without provocation. Wow. The first thing I realized is that I’m a real Bastard. I have a lot of things I can improve on, a lot to make up for.
Then I looked at Her list. And I understood. If someone did all that shit to me, I’d probably… I dunno, I’d probably call ’em a Doo-Doo Head… and I’d change the fucking channel…Hell, Yes!! If somebody did all that stuff on My list to me I’d do all that shit on Her list to them.
And I understood.
There was no need to forgive. I understood. If anyone needed to be forgiven, it was me. She was just another one of God’s chillun’, tryin’ to get by as best she could. Someone stepped on her toes and she retaliated.
If someone asks me why we broke up, I tell them: “She was a great girl, it just didn’t work out”.