I'm on my ... second? third? ... glass of whiskey tonight, depending on how you count, but for most of this week I've had no alcohol to drink. It's been interesting.
Some time after Son 1 moved in, I started paying attention to how much I was drinking. At first I didn't, because he'd have a beer or two with dinner and I'd have beer or wine, and who cared? But if we were out of beer he didn't want wine. After dinner he might have whiskey but often not and never any other spirits. And even when he wasn't drinking, I was.
Also I noticed that I had been exercising more regularly than this spring (when I was traveling so much for work) but my weight was pretty constant. Of course there are a lot of calories in alcohol. And when I get drunk, I eat more.
So when I went to the store over the weekend I deliberately didn't buy any more wine -- one six-pack of beer for Son 1, but no more. I drank water or juice with dinner. And I noticed a few changes, as a result.
On the positive side, I lost weight this week -- only a few pounds, but it was measurable and steady.
On the negative side ... well.
I went to bed earlier and earlier -- by 8:00 or even before. Yes, I was getting up at 5:00 so I could go to the gym before work ... so I guess you could argue that going to bed at 8:00 wasn't crazy early. But it was still early. And while in the first half of the day I'd feel a glow of strength and energy, after lunch I would want nothing in the world but a nap. That exhaustion would last all afternoon. I would be exhausted by the time I got home. I'd have almost no interest in dinner, maybe just a piece of bread with peanut butter -- and this was doubtless part of why I was losing weight. So in some ways the alcohol was acting for me as a stimulant.
It acted also as a (social) lubricant. Without it, I found myself wanting to spend less and less time with Son 1. If I wasn't drinking, I felt shy, like I wanted to retreat into my bedroom as soon as possible. This was another reason that I went to bed so early ... that it took me away from his company. It let me hide. Way back in the last days of living with Wife it was the same: if I was sober, I was always on edge and wanted to escape; but if I was drunk I could laugh and joke and be sociable. Is that what is going on here? Do I really need to get Son 1 out of my space the same way I needed to move away from Wife? Or is the seeming similarity just a coincidence?
I don't know.
Today while I was at work, Marie texted me to tell me to do something fun tonight. I replied with an email as follows:
Hey love,
You texted me to do something fun tonight, but I’m not quite sure what would count as fun. I’m kind of getting into this concept of going to bed really early, but I guess that’s not what you have in mind.
My neighbors are hosting a big shindig tomorrow night, but I’m not sure about going. I always feel like death warmed over for at least the next 24 hours afterwards.
My girlfriend [this means Marie herself, of course!] is not in town, so that kind of lets out planning for lots of energetic sex. (Besides, I share an apartment with my son!) Of course there are three colleges in town, so maybe I should look for a cute undergraduate with spiky hair [Marie has sometimes fantasized about us finding a girl with spiky hair to join us] and then tell my girlfriend all the steamy details afterwards. (Not sure if that would make you feel hurt, angry, jealous, or incredibly aroused — or possibly all four at once!) And as we all know, cute undergraduates with spiky hair are famous for getting excited by pudgy, graying, terminally square guys in their late 50’s, especially when those guys live in dingy apartments and don’t flash lots of disposable cash; so obviously this last plan is a really pragmatic one.
I’m kind of running out of ideas here. Going to bed early is sounding better and better.
Love you,
Your Hosea
I was trying to be funny. But in the absence of alcohol, I really was feeling like I couldn't think of anything more fun than going to bed early.
Her reply picked up mostly on the funny bits. But in and around the funny bits, I think she heard a little bit of what was going on with me, if not the whole thing. Among other things, she wrote:
It does seem a while since you've talked about art walks or gallery openings or weird little shows you went to. When we were first involved it seemed like you went to SOMETHING just about every week. Are you okay physically? You've seemed tired a lot since our return from New Zealand.
I'm not sure how much I want to explain. Any explanation involving alcohol sounds like a bad thing ... and like it would cause alarm. Or do I just tell her the truth?
Maybe she's asking about more than just the last week. And in that case ... what is the truth?
I don't know. I hope it's not something really bad.
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