Wednesday, February 7, 2007

A Writer’s Lament of a Love Lost…

I picked up my cordless phone at midnight and pressed the “on” button. My thumb hesitated as I started to dial her number. I almost called, but the insanity passed. An all together different insanity took grip of my feeble, easily swayed, and addiction prone mind.

“Damn,” I muttered as I set the phone down upon my kitchen counter. “I need a drink.”
I can picture her lying in her bed with her cats alone as I write; the phone on her bedside table silent and just waiting for me to call. A stoic reminder of all the late nights we spent talking about mostly nothing, enjoying each other’s company.
There was a lone can of Budweiser in my refrigerator from my drinking days; a single survivor of the many nights I would spend drinking myself into a stupor alone. It was hiding behind the jar of jalapeno flavored dill pickles next to a pitcher of sweet ice brewed tea. I walked to the fridge, opened the door, and stood there for a moment as that cold air poured out and flowed over my sock adorned feet.

I miss her,” I thought. “I don’t want to be lonely anymore. A drink will make you feel better.”

I cracked open the Budweiser and that strong smell of fermented barley and hops wafted up to my nostrils. It almost made me sick to my stomach. I had forgotten how much I hate the acrid smell of beer. I was hoping that one can of Bud and the rush of its alcohol would give me the courage to call.

There was a moment of hesitation. A tear erupted and rolled down my cheek.

“If you drink this one beer then you will go buy more and you will get drunk,” I told myself. “It’s the first beer that gets you drunk and not the following twenty.”

I know myself all too well.

I turned to the sink and poured the beer out. It was one of the hardest things I have had to do in a long time. The heat of the moment had me firmly in its grasp and all I could think about was escaping to inebriated bliss.

I walked into my den and sat down in front of my computer as I carried the phone with me. I placed it next to my keyboard upon the desk as I began to write…

Will I always be alone? Will I always have to carry this torch that is my burden to bear in solitude? I want to call her so badly, but couldn’t face the rejection if she acted coldly to me. I want her to come over and climb into my bed as I hold her for hours into the night. I want to smell her hair and to run my hands upon the baby soft skin of her back.

I can picture her lying in her bed with her cats alone as I write; the phone on her bedside table silent and just waiting for me to call. A stoic reminder of all the late nights we spent talking about mostly nothing, enjoying each other’s company. I turn back to my computer and continue to write once I pull myself out of my deep thoughts.

I remember those weeks when we first met. Tentative flirting over a store counter grew into long nights of passionate love making. Nights spent holding each other, laughing, and acting silly as if we were teenagers once again.

I stop writing as I think of those nights. I lose my writer’s muse. I am emotionally spent. It is time to go to bed. Another day draws to a close with my only companion a little wire haired terrier that would never forsake me. Goodnight Carolyn. I will always love you and understand why we can’t be together. I will always have the memories we formed together.

C’est le vie,” I think as I close my word processor without saving what I had written. “It was good while it lasted.”

17 comments:

simonsays said...

There are so many things I would like to say to you, Andrew, but I wouldn't want to say it for all the world to see. Maybe one day I will write you an email. Just know that you are doing a great job with your life. As good as anyone that i have ever known, and generally better than most of us. You hang in there--all things become easier with time. Thank you for the intimate peek into all that is yours-I am well aware how much courage that takes. Your Friend, Jamie

Summer said...

When I read this, I am taken back to the memory of a lost love. I used to tell him all the time that I understood. But what I finally came to realize is that he didn't love me enough. It hurts.

SimplyTim said...

solitary self making amid seductive triggers...

aussie wannabe said...

You have a way of expressing what you think and feel thhrough writing that is so amazingly detailed yet, vague. The way you wrote about the can of beer... I've been there, I'm not an alcoholic, but I have an addictive personality. I can picture what you were thinking quite clearly.
As to what you wrote about the woman you love... don't feel down.
A song by Queen expresses it very well: "Just one year of love is better than a lifetime alone"
Take care!
p.s. You should seriously consider a career in writing, I would definitely buy your books, you write beautifully!!

Amanda said...

It takes a very strong person to resist that kind of temptation.

abbagirl74 said...

I know how you feel. Sometimes that is all you can think about at times. A certain song, picture, smell, of thing can bring back a rush of memories. You are strong, dear friend. Very strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You are a wonderful man. Time heals all wounds, remember?

Anonymous said...

Andrew:

As a recovering alcoholic I know how hard temptation can be. But you did exactly what it takes to stay sober for one more day....you thought the temptation through...

“If you drink this one beer then you will go buy more and you will get drunk,” I told myself. “It’s the first beer that gets you drunk and not the following twenty.”

This process is what has kept me sober for 15 years. I'm so proud of you...and remember you are not alone in this world. I find myself 'checking' on you every day.

Peace my friend.....

b

Augs Casa said...

Good for you for pouring that beer down the drain. You're stronger than you lead on. I know this is no consolation, but I was single for a very long time. I then met the most wonderful women in the world. You might know her as Drama Queen or DraMa. Good things happen to people. Just don't be in a hurry.

D-Monk said...

As a fellow recovering addict, I am very proud of you!

You faced one of life's darkest troubles -- loneliness -- and you went through it without self-medicating.

And you said "no" to drink at a time when many of us would have said "yes."

I applaud you, I send blessings your way, and my peace I give to you.

Thanks for sharing your experience with us.

D-Monk

Jenn said...

We are always better for having loved...even when the experience leaves us raw and vulnerable.

Pour the beer down the drain and pour your feelings out in your written words.

I'm new to your blog and blown away by your story. You are honest, courageous and eloquent.

Amy H said...

Wow, you are an amazing writer. Reading that brought back memories of my own, I'm so glad that life really did go on after.

Take care,
Amy

latibug said...

Wow...thanks for such a raw post. I could so totally relate as I am having a bit of a relationship crisis at the moment and really trying to decide whether to fight for my marriage or go down another road that has opened up.

I am glad you didn't drink because I know it would have lead to bad things today and tomorrow and the day after. One day at a time my dear friend.......one day at a time.


Lisa

Abigail S said...

Good for you for not giving in to that beer! :-)

I know it's hard to let go of a dearly loved one. But maybe it is for the best. You never know what (or who) is just around the corner!

Cheryl said...

Good job, my friend. And you know, there will be another woman in your life. You just don't know her yet.

Leann said...

I did not know she was no longer int he picture. ?? Can you direct me to the post that explains why??

I'm so sorry Andrew. I know first hand how difficult it can be, especially to be alone and believe that you'll always be alone. Take heart my friend and know we're here.

Deb said...

whoa, that was powerful to me.

so many nights I've felt the same way.

it's passed (mostly), but I truly felt that.

austere said...

Sad. and proud.