When I stopped drinking, dating felt totally different. In sobriety, I had to be more vulnerable.
When I stopped drinking alcohol, dating was different. In sobriety, I learned not to settle, to stop obsessing, and to be vulnerable.
Courtesy of the author
- When I stopped drinking, dating was the last thing on my mind.
- But eventually, I had to jump back in.
- I learned a few valuable lessons, and now, I'm more vulnerable in my approach.
When I went sober six years ago, dating and getting laid was the last thing on my mind. At that point, there was just no way I could expose my insecurities to the onslaught of judgment and rejection that dating entailed. Before that, I needed to spend some time sitting with my own thoughts to regain the strength necessary to love someone else. After all, I'd gone sober for a reason: to self-optimize, and I couldn't do that with a man snoring in my ear.
But the day eventually came when I felt brave enough to date without alcohol. It felt like alcohol and I had always been in an open relationship, but now it was time for me to fly solo. Still, even after doing the work of examining my flaws and strengthening my resolve, I felt lost. I hadn't even kissed a guy sober since high school, and without my former liquid lover, I didn't have a crutch to lean on when my knees got shaky.
On the other hand, stepping out on my own afforded me the brilliant opportunity to learn a few lessons.
Don't settle
After completing an outpatient rehab program at The Center in New York City, I realized that my prior dating patterns had tracked with my substance abuse. For years, I'd pined after men who didn't love me, or worse, settled for losers. These patterns stemmed from my lack of self-worth, which was equal parts the cause and effect of my substance abuse (with a sprinkling of genetics thrown in).
Drinking made me feel guilty, which chipped away at my self-esteem even more, which made me feel even less deserving of healthy relationships. I was caught in a cycle, and my door continued to swing open to not just toxic narcissists, but also closeted men unprepared to claim me as their partner.
Sobriety helped not only force me to recognize and reexamine this pattern, but to break it. I became more judicious and less capricious. I paid attention to red flags. I created boundaries when necessary.
Don't obsess over small things
That said, I couldn't blame all my past failures on the men I'd dated. One of my own pre-existing flaws that became apparent post-rehab — and which had contributed to my dating failures — was my obsessive behavior. In the drinking years, I'd hang on to every text, glance, smile, and Instagram comment that I received from a crush during the hours I was sober. Each detail was a clue as to whether or not he loved me. Alcohol, however, helped me turn down the lights on these pesky fixations, numbing my thoughts and convincing me that I was healthy.
After giving up booze, I had to filter out obsessive thoughts in real-time, without any help. I had to learn to live in the present and focus on the realities of my relationships. As most things, this was easier said than done, and I'm still not great at it. But these days, when I find myself obsessing over something, I either talk to my partner or go swimming to burn off steam, which helps.
Courtesy Evan Lambert
Be vulnerable whenever you can
I'm not the only person in history who has used alcohol as a social lubricant. I'm also not the only person who has faced the fear of dating during sobriety. Nevertheless, after going sober, I confronted an endless deluge of social anxiety. That worrying, which had thus far been bottled up, felt insurmountable. Talking to men sober felt like doing it for the first time. My hand needed a drink to hold; otherwise, what would I do with it? My mouth needed liquid to fill it; otherwise, how would I stall before thinking of something interesting to say?
Sobriety forced me to be vulnerable. Stepping into social scenarios without alcohol, I became a bird tumbling from his nest. There was nothing beneath me; I had to beat my wings until I rose to the occasion. Sex was just as frightening. It felt dangerous and uncharted, like an opportunity for me to be hurt. Many times, it was easier to just end a date early than reveal the inner torment I was facing.
And yet, I began to release my demons, returning them to their caves and shadows where they belonged. By sharing my struggles with friends, partners, and even random people on the Internet, I became lighter. I became braver by facing and embracing my fears. And finally, six years later, after finding myself a loving, generous partner who understands me, I'm happier than ever.