Is this really my life?

I was hoping to make this blog about my crazy dating stories (which there is no shortage of..) and the silly dramas that occur in my life.

Sometimes things don't go as planned I suppose.

Right now, I am dealing with something very real and very serious.

I have now become part of an Intervention involving the love of my life.

He is an alcoholic and needs help or he will die. It is simple as that.

Even writing those words sting like nothing else.

I have gotten mixed opinions when it has to deal with him. We are not married or have children (we sort of share the dog...). We are no longer dating. The majority of people say-walk away and walk away fast. Boy is that something I would love to do. Wouldn't that make my life easier? Abso-freakin-lutely! But let me ask this, would you walk away from someone you love when they are ill? Of course not. What I have learned over the past few months about alcoholism is that it is an illness. This is not a character flaw or a weakness in character. This is a disease that only can be treated with an intervention and treatment.

I guess I should back up and give a bit of a re-cap. Two weekends ago, I was in bed after a full day of baby shower fun and was planning a nice Sunday when i get a phone call from one of B's best friends around midnight. B wanted to come over. In my little optomistic mind, I genuinely thought he wanted to hang out and spend time with the dog and me. Stupid stupid me.

As soon as he got out of the car, I smelled the booze. He came in and fought with me in the kitchen over the refridgerator trying to find beer. He was so drunk that he missed the several bottles of wine staring him in the face.

The night to say the least was a circus. He would pass out and then wake up and apologize over and over and over and over and over again with "I'm sorry ad nauseum". At some point in the night he grabbed me and held me and said how much he loved me and wanted to hold me.

It's at these moments that the alcoholics screw with our brains. In that moment, I chose to believe him.

The night was full of chaos to the point that at 5:30 the dog and I fell asleep on the couch in the living room. At around 8am I went back upstairs and he appeared to have sobered up. We laughed and ironically had a good time, again, pretending that this was "normal".

That afternoon I dropped him off at his car and drove back to my house and I just didn't feel good about myself. Something was off kilter. I knew I needed to so something and act. I contacted the friend who dropped him off at my house and I come to find out he drove from the city to the suburbs drunk. That was the nail on the coffin. I contacted an addictions counselor and gathered as much information I could on alcoholism. I also found a good therapist as this has taken a toll on me tremendously. I attended another an-anon meeting and contacted his best friends. They had been trying to individually speak with him since November to obviously no success. For all intents and purposes, we divided and conquered. We divided who would contact who and keep it to his core group of friends and his oldest brother. There is 7 of us in total (I am the only girl). Calling his brother was my job today. He called me back as soon as he left work. He was extremely nice and has already been contacted by one of the other 6 and is completely on board.

The scary part of this, as we have all gotten together, we realize how much in the dark all of us actually are. I made the statement that I only know 1/8 of what really happens in B's life when his brother said, "well, that means I only know 1/16".

That is scary.

I thought he had a tremendous insight as to what was going on. In all actuality, we are all in the dark and have been kept compartmentalized.

This is not something that should be taken lightly and while I sat on the couch in my new therapists office I stopped talking and said, "Oh my God. I am in a therapist's office talking about B's alcoholism. This is real. This is no joke. This is my life."

The risk we are all taking is that B can completely hate us and resent us. When speaking with one of his friends today, I expressed my concern (as B is furious with me as I have been pushing him and talking about his drinking to which he says, "just leave it alone; I'm handling it; our relationship is unhealthy and unproductive so we need to go our separate ways"). His friend said in no uncertain terms, that he doesn't care if he is pissed. We are saving his life.

I think he knows something is going on.

Tomorrow morning is a big deal, as his brother is having breakfast with his dad. The father is going to be a key player in this and how this goes down.

I hate doing this behind his back and he would be beyond furious if he knew. He will be furious with all of us. This is beyond hard for me. I never thought this would be my life.

Maybe he is my greatest teacher; although, I never thought this was going to be how he was going to teach me.

I am surprised at my candor with his brother this afternoon. I had no qualms in telling him how much I loved his brother. There was no hesitation or regret. It just came out and there was no shock on his end. That surprised me as I didn't think he even knew I was a part of B's life anymore, but he knows, apparently they all do.

I know the big job is to come.

Who knew that I would be able to/have the power (and let's face it, the BALLS) to set up this intervention and get the help he needs. The few DUI's, public drunkedness, etc. It has to stop. We have to stop enabling him. It is a great feeling not to feel alone.

For some reason, this brings me a tremendous amount of "closure". I don't know if that is the correct word, but it brings value to our "relationship". I am no longer 1/8. I am fully in it. We all are. I am not showing my love by a text message, letter, phone call, or dinner. I suppose this defines "tough love".

I can tell you this much: It most certainly is tough and is apparet that it is love.

True love is not the easy stuff. True love is not the pretty ring, big wedding, expensive dinner, nice car, etc.

Regardless that I am not married, I am starting to realize what true love is. It's caring so deeply for another human being that you risk your personal ties/relationship with them to save their life if that's what it takes.

The Republican Virgin

Back in October 2007, I was very involved in the Hillary Clinton campaign. I had signs, posters, books, everything Hillary. I met her, went to rallies, got her books signed, and attended at a VERY close proximity her headquarters when she won the state of PA in the primaries.


I come from a family that was/is involved in politics. Growing up, I used to think my father and his father hated each other because after dinners on Sundays they would sit in the living room and have heated discussions about Ronald Reagan. My paternal grandfather worked in the government in a foreign country and was seen in many pictures with the country's leader. One of my first memories as a child was staying home with my dad to watch the Iran Contra Affair...like probably every other 5 year old did in the early 80's...right???


So it was fitting for me to attend the debates that were held here in Philadelphia of the democrats when it was the whole gang (Edwards, Obama, Clinton, Kusinish, Biden, etc..). Before the debates, I met a guy who was a reporter for McCain. He was handsome, and obviously smart. We strike up a conversation on the steps of the building. After the debates, we walked a bit and ended up talking for about a 1/2 hour. We exchanged business cards and that was that.


About a week later, I receive an e-mail from him asking to go to dinner. I said yes and we made plans for that Friday. When the day came, as usual, I had no interest in going, but threw on some makeup, and heels and went.


I knew as soon as I walked in that I wanted to leave. The restaurant was NOT smoke free as the city was at the time and made my eyes water. When I walked in the door I had to pay a $10 cover as well. I had small hopes that "maybe" he would not be there. Oh, but I was wrong.

He was standing there and told me, "I have taken the liberty of getting us a table." I agreed and we sat down. The waitress takes our order and I order my staple "gotta-get-through-it" drink of gin and tonic. He ordered a Magners because he "didn't want to get too crazy". She explained the specials and he made it seem like he was ordering for his Last Supper. When she left, I asked him what he does and why he picked the place he did to live (he lives in a nice suburb of Philly, but VERY family neighborhood and he was a single guy). He explained to me, that at 34 he lived at home with his mom and dad by choice. His mother was a "homemaker" and his dad was a computer guy. His mom cooks all of his meals for him in a balanced way, as well as does his laundry. Immediately, I wanted to leave. This would never EVER work. Not even a little bit. I burn my hand/arm making Elios pizza for God's sake!

Our food came and I kept ordering some gin and tonics and he switched to coffee with 9 sugars in each to which is proceeded to spin his cup while he was talking. When I asked him if he was a serial dater since he was single, he told me that "I can see how one can misconstrue that but that is not the case. In all actuality, I have never been priivied to the touch of a female." as hard as that sentence was to read for you, imagine sitting across from the table when that was being said. As more came out of his mouth, he explained that his craziest moment in his life was his sophomore year of high school on stage crew when he and his friends walked to a pizza place eventhough they had cars.

We had other couples around us STAYING to just see how this played out. When he went to the bathroom, I sent a mass text to all of my friends with the words, "he is a republican virgin who lives at home". EVERYONE was loving it! When the bill came it was placed on the table I reached for it, as I was ready to BOLT from the restaurant. He then offered to pay and I ask him, "Are you sure?" to which he said, "well, at least let's split it." I threw down the money I had left from the cover I had to pay and stood up. He sat spinning his coffee cup over and over without looking me in the eye. He half stood up to bid me fare-the-well and then sat back down to finish his cup of coffee.

I left with a great deal of relief and went to my friend's house for a few glasses of wine to rehash and recap.

This is one of MANY interesting date stories to come...

Bad Dates

The real reason I have been told by several of my friends to start a blog (or a book!) was because of my string of bad/hilarious/bizarre dates. There is a myriad of them and I am not sure where to begin. Each day I will post a story about a date that I had that would make one think I had made it up. The title of my blog refers to the fact that, unfortunately, these experiences did indeed happen to me and brought me where I am today.

Could "he" be my greatest teacher?? Seriously?? Maybe so...

So before I get too much into this, I refer to "him" a great deal. I should really divulge a bit more about "him". I have to be so very careful not to mention who he really is because he has no clue I am even writing a blog (although he wouldn't be shocked...as nothing I do shocks him). I guess the easiest way for me to keep it all straight is to call him B.

To start off, I was not suppose to have even had a relationship with B. Not even a little bit. He was supposed to remain my high school crush and stay in that little high school fantasy world where everyone's high school dreams stay.

I met B for the first time back in 9th grade. He was shorter than me and lighter than me (which was tough since I have always been the smallest in the class). I distinctly remember him walking into my school for a dance (we each went to single sex schools). I looked at him in his eyes and even as a young teenager, I remember him just captivating me. But, we hung in different, yet overlapping circles, and never really had a conversation with him. He claims I never spoke up, and maybe he is right. I was very good friends with his prom date since grade school and left well enough alone.

Through out college, I would see him at parties and I would not think anything of it. I did, though, express to my boyfriend at the time when we would see him how he was my high school crush. He used to tease me about it all the time when we would see him at a party. I used to become all flustered when he was at the same place as I was...he made me so darn girly!

What seemed like eons later (ok, probably 4...), I had gone through a very very rough break-up of a relationship that was headed towards marriage. The last thing on my mind was dating seriously. I wanted a few flings and to just enjoy my life and friends and freedom.

Then came March 13, 2004.

I was out with many of my girlfriends at the cities big festivities for St. Patty's Day. We were having a blast all day. We even were able to get in to a frat house as full grown women.

I had had several glasses of beer and some food and was enjoying my day to the fullest. One of the stops along the way I looked over and saw B with a few girls around him. I pointed and said his full name. He moved his hand to the side of his face to hide it. I thought...MAN what a complete jerk. Later that evening, I divulged to one of his best friends that I had a crush on him. That was all it took. Next thing I know, there he was, holding a conversation with me at the bar in his green golf shirt. I remember it like it was yesterday. He left his friends to come and hang out with my friends. He gave me a kiss that night and I was estatic. In my mind, I figured it would be it. He gave me his number, but would not take mine.

He somehow got my number and called me the following day.

I would love to say: "and they lived happily ever after"...boy is that furthest from the truth!

As the five year mark creeps up to that day, it brings along some great memories and many emotions...it just reminds me of how blessed I am and how you never know what God has in store for you!

Signs, Sign, Everywhere Signs

I'm not going to hide the fact that I seek spirituality in different ways. I have been seeing a psychic for a few years, on a fairly monthly basis. I think part of it has to do with my control issues. I "need" to know what is going to happen next. And I have to say, she has been spot on with many, many things. I cannot discount that. But there is/was an element that lived my life in anxiety "believing" that I already knew what was to come. If it didn't go as calculated, per my psychic then it threw me for a loop and created lots of drama. I think I started to doubt the validity of her predictions on August 18, 2008. It is when I received a phone call that threw me for a loop. "He" called. "He" was moving back to Philadelphia after 3 years of being away. I will have to explain "He" in my next post...but it got me thinking that do we even want to know the future or is it better to let it unravel at will and surprise us along the way. That evening I received the phone call it was the last thing on my mind. "He" sensed I was ticked off at him for I reason I do not know is what my initial thought was. But, no..."He" was calling to tell me he was moving back home. When those words came out of his mouth, it was the first time in 29 years that I burst into tears spontaneously. I was unsure of why I cried it just couldn't stop.

But I digress (which is why I need some sort of platform for this blog as I am all over the place)...

Signs. Right, signs...

Shortly after I received that phone call, EVERYTHING started to drastically change, some at the time, I perceived it to be for the worse, but now, I wouldn't change a single minute, second...none of it...

A few weeks after "he" moved back home, I had an incredibly spiritual afternoon that was completely unexpected. Let me explain...

I worked in sales (and ok, still do to some degree...). My job was to travel to different colleges and organizations to seek out authors as well as promote our products. On this unusually warm fall day I did all I needed to to at this particular school and decided to head back home for a nice run with my dog. As I pull out, the main road was packed, I mean, people were doing u-turns in the middle of the road, so I followed suit. As I was driving the back way home, I passed the cemetery when my paternal grandparents are buried. I stop there maybe 3 times a year. I felt compelled to pull in and stop to see them. The breeze was picking up and I was getting frustrated walking in the mud and dirt desperately trying to find their gravestone as I found it odd that I couldn't find them! Finally, just when I was ready to throw in the towel, I found them. I started praying and just being in silence (which is rare...). I look at the corner of the stone and laying there is a miraculous medal of St. Terese. I look around after I pick it up, and see if anyone is watching this. I take it and call my mom as soon as I jump in the car. I have her google St. Therese. She calls me back and says she is the patron saint of the little flower. She does BIG things in little ways. To know that she is listening to my prayers, I am to see 3 roses. Well, easy! There is a flower shop on Main St. of my little Philadelphia town. So I recruit one of my best friends to walk down to see them. As we walked about 2 blocks, my friend stops me and I see her staring at this house next to us. The front yard was covered in mums, with three single roses in full bloom, were amidst all of the mums. It was totally out of season and I realized that I didn't need to seek them out, they sought me out. It still gives me chills, as it does with everyone else I tell the story, including my friend who I witnessed her hair completely standing up on her arms.

The following day, everything in my life began to turn upside down. The one aspect I had always prided myself in as an adult was my career. I was not only good, but considered among many as one of the best in my field. The following day I was put on a performance plan. The thought still causes minor pains in my abdomen. I was put on a performance plan. It was embarrassing, humbling, disturbing, horrendous, and pretty much my worse nightmare career-wise. Especially with the economy beginning to crumble at this time. Not only was my career crumbling, but so was my health due to the stress. No one in my company (which is mammoth) knew except my supervisor, her supervisor, and then CEO. A few weeks into it, I was working with a senior manager who sensed my tension blatantly asked me if I was on a plan, and when I confessed yes and to please not share that information, he sort of scoffed and said, "Seriously? Who would believe me?" It was true. It was not warranted and there is a deeper meaning behind it than I could ever come up with.

Not to get into too much detail of the horrendousness of that part of my life that lasted 4 months, I ended up landing the perfect job. This job, when someone looks at the description, would peg me instantly for it.

Sometimes you can't see past the "muckety muck" to the good stuff at the end...because it is so worth it.

In case you are wondering, I carry that medal everywhere with me. Whenever I get stressed or uncomfortable, I just have to feel it in my fingers and it reminds me that everything is happening the way it is supposed to. It may not happen in "my" time, but as it so happens, God's time is much better...