Why do AA members spend so much of their post-drinking time obsessing over drinks they won’t be drinking? Is it because abstinence makes the heart grow fonder? From one of their websites (via Vaughan at MindHacks) comes this love letter to Alcohol.
I love you more than anything right now. I love you even when you’re shitty beer, or at the bottom of somebody’s abandoned cocktail glass left on a sticky bar or when I drink an entire bottle of wine before a first date, then head to the bar, already knowing I’ll probably do something I regret. I love you more than the four iPhones, two friendships, and one pair of shoes I’ve lost or broken while drunk.
It wasn’t a straightforward romance. I knew I was looking for something, but I didn’t know it would be you. After all, bulimia and I were flirting pretty hard and heavy when I was introduced to you, a month after I turned 16. I met you via tequila shots in my friend Viv’s basement after a homecoming game. My hands were chapped from the cold of walking the mile from the football field to her house without gloves, and I hated the way my cracked skin tasted as I licked the salt that lay above the knuckle on my thumb. I hated the way the tequila burned down my throat. But I did four shots anyway. Afterwards I felt alive, funny, enervated. The world seemed a lot less scary and cold.
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