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It’s only a matter of time before he hears how—and who—you’re doing.
The “Grapevine” couldn’t be a better metaphor for the growing gossip and intertwining overgrowth that is the fellowship of AA.
So when you break up with somebody, don’t be surprised when they end up dating your sponsor or sponsee.
Dating in the program is like fishing in a small toxic pond.
One day at the crusty Brentwood “ladies who lunch” meeting, a tattooed, dark-haired man walked in.“This is a women’s meeting,” one of the tautly pulled housewives said.“I am a woman,” the man—who, as it turned out, was a woman—said. I had never been attracted to a woman before but she wasn’t just a woman: she was, when I got to know her, this amazing combination of the best traits of a female best friend with all the machismo and chivalry of a man.
She could fix your car and then stay up till in the morning eating ice cream and talking about feelings, burning you Tori Amos CD’s.
I thought, with the Olympics scheduled there in 2016, I’ll write an updated novel! Back in the day of my musical, there was a true “bad guy” whose name I won’t reveal, but was whom I based my antagonist on.
It turns out that right after I had finished my musical, this “bad guy” had been locked up for many years. Why don’t you write about something like dating for life?
Now if anyone has stayed at Fisherman’s Wharf, you will understand why I was more than happy to carry her bags on this trip.I would go to those uptight “lady” meetings in Beverly Hills and Brentwood where women with bad facelifts and expensive handbags complain about their gardeners.I would go to a Saturday women’s meeting in Crenshaw for lesbians.I wish I could say that is was the “gift of desperation” or the rabid desire for a new life that kept me coming back to the rooms when I was new. I am still envious of the young newcomer girls who are pulled aside by other women and warned about the predatory old timers who wait in anticipation for the next wave of fresh meat. I became best friends with another hot newcomer girl and together we went through the 13th step mill, at times sharing some of the same old timers. I was a willing participant, although at 45 days or even four months, you’re so hungry for attention and distraction that you think you can handle things that you’re clearly not able to in retrospect. And, if it wasn’t romance taking me out, it was the lack of romance—the ache of terrible loneliness. Oh, the boys…with their smoky breath and ironic t-shirts and tattooed forearms, waxing philosophical about life and spinning tales of desperation, desecration and finally redemption. I could easily branch off`into horror stories about how I was 13th stepped by program quasi-gurus who had double-digit sobriety while I was just stringing days together.
The person he locked up wrote a book about it, and had become a celebrity cop! Melissa had just returned to our hotel room, and I was busy corroborating my sources like any good reporter. It was from a reporter who advised me, “Be careful what you write about…” Melissa, who supports me in everything I do, smiled sweetly and said, “It took me too long to find you. ” And as Paul Harvey used to say, “And that, folks, is the rest of the story!