I can't remember if I blogged about my dating hiatus way back when. Or maybe I didn't yet have a blog.
But in any case, back when I was single and in serial dating drama trauma, my friend Tejal said that I had to take a month off. No dates for a month. None. No catching up with an old boyfriend, no just a coffee, nothing.
A month! A month of my ovaries aging and my wrinkles getting wrinklier and what if the perfect person dropped by in that month and I didn't know it?
Nope. A month. It would make me healthier and stronger.
I can't remember if it did. But I know I did it.
So. The other night Nick proposed that we take the month of November off from drinking.
We both sleep better when we haven't had anything to drink. Like, not one glass of wine with dinner. It's remarkable how much that messes with my sleep.
And sleep is something both of us value highly at this point.
Plus, we both turn too easily to a big glass of wine or a beer or three at the end of the day when work has been stressful, the kids are screaming, Mercury is in retrograde, the darkness is dark, and so on. Cheers, sweetheart.
We keep deciding that we're going to do a week or two of detox, and then one of us is like, seriously, the deep breathing is not quite doing it and my head is going to explode and I want a glass of wine, stat, and the other is all, fuck yeah, and then there you have it.
It's kind of weird. I mean, a lot of it is the ritual. You pull out a wine glass and you open the bottle and pour and just stepping away from what you were doing and into that different space feels both calming and decadent. In fact, I think it's partly ritual that makes me so look forward to a cup of tea in the morning.
So Nick decided, and I agreed, sort of. You know how we have this funny balance in which he is more the adult and I am more the kooky one and these are our roles except that sometimes I'm more mature than him and boy is he kookier than the rest of you know.
But! In circumstances like this he is good at taking a hard line. Because I am always the one with the low tolerance, who, when we're out having cocktails and someone suggests another, is like, whee! So fun! Sure! And I say and do ridiculous shit and in the moment it is very fun for all involved.
And then the next day I'm all WHY did you let me do that and now I'm going to die and why why why didn't you stop me?
Sometimes I know my limit better than Nick does, but for the most part, I've asked him to be the Voice of Reason.
So. We have a long-long-long-planned date with an old friend of mine and his girlfriend mid-month. We'll have wine with dinner. So that is our exception. Not our meeting anniversary on the 13th. Not Thanksgiving.
I was sad about the Tabard, but Nick has work stuff, and in the scheme, it's not a big deal.
Thanksgiving, however. I had a panic about Thanksgiving, because I don't know that I can breathe deeply enough to handle it. Cookies don't take the edge off in quite the same way.
I had an old boss who would buy those mini wine bottles and sneak them in her purse when they visited her mother-in-law. And first thing, she would go to the bathroom and chug a little bottle of wine. She used them as needed during the visit.
She was very matter of fact about it. This was how she coped.
At the time I was single and shocked.
Now I think, man, we're all just trying to get along in this world. I hope you're well, lady.