Parting Was The Sweetest Sorrow

A small smile played on my face as I opened Tinder. This was not my usual reaction of fear and annoyance at being back on the dating scene. But there was a gentleman responsible for it. 

His name was Chris.

We'd been talking for a couple of weeks. The conversation looked like a gay man's fever dream. We'd talked about our diva astrology: Me a Britney sun, Cher moon, and Gaga rising. Him a Kylie sun, Britney moon, and Gaga rising as well. 

To why the original American Queer As Folk is superior to the version that aired on Peacock. Both were good, but the 2000 version resonated more with us because it came out during a time when there was no other queer media. 

A date seemed inevitable. We both wanted a relationship. Each understood where the other stood in terms of monogamy and what it would look like for us. 

"I was in a poly relationship, and it wasn't for me," Chris admitted one night. We were in the middle of a heartfelt conversation about the hurt and pain we experienced in past relationships. 

"I've only been monogamous. For me, that works. Though, if someone talked to me about it, I might be open to something else." I answered. 

It was nearly three in the morning when we stopped talking that night. I went to bed thinking about how great this was, finally someone I was compatible with. A good man, who shared my vision for the future. 

There was something I missed, though. 

Missed Information

I was on cloud nine the next day. Anyone who saw me was instantly annoyed with my sunny disposition. Even I thought I was being extra. But that's true most days.

Chris wished me a good morning, which only added to the extended swoon that I was experiencing. He was off to a meeting but promised to text when he was done.

My bestie asked to see the profile of the man who had me acting so uncharacteristically happy. I showed him and he seemed to approve. His face betrayed nothing as he looked over the information.

"So, you're ok with him being sober?" Bestie asked.

"I mean, it's only midday, if he were drunk, I think that may be an issue," I paused. "Unless we're on vacation or something." I am never one to miss a quip. Thanks, Will and Grace.

"Did you actually read his profile?"

Of course, I had. Or at least I thought I had.

Buried at the bottom, Chris talked about being sober. Questions raced through my brain like they were in a NASCAR race. The biggest one was, did he know that I was not sober?

And could a relationship between someone who is sober and someone who is not, actually work?

The Conversation

When it comes to dealing with complicated issues, there's only one way to handle them. Head on. It's only fair to all involved if things are handled in a direct way, in my experience. 

Still, I wasn't sure that I would be able to do it. Even knowing it was only fair to have the conversation, I didn't want him to think that his sobriety was an issue for me. 

And it wasn't.

It was the opposite. I am not sober, I like to drink with friends and dance. Could I stop for this man? Should I even contemplate it? Especially, when at least part of my persona online is a fun partier? 

Then I began to wonder if maybe I was making too much of it. Chris hadn't exactly talked about being sober, nor had he actually asked me to stop drinking. 

"Hey cutie, how's my favorite guy?" Chris asked when he came back. 

"You're sober?" I replied. No one ever accused me of beating around the bush. 

The conversation went better than expected. He stopped drinking and smoking weed after he was in an accident. Those activities put him in a position of nearly losing his life, and it was a wake-up call. 

Then he said that he would never ask someone to be sober with him. He thought it was wrong when one person tried to control their partner. 

"I don't want to challenge your sobriety. It's such a brave thing. But I'm not sober. And one vacation, I enjoy indulging more than usual." 

"It wouldn't bother me," he said. Like me, he wanted to hold on to this thing that we had been creating. "But I can't lie, I would be too tempted to fall off the wagon."

We said goodbye. It was all we could do. 

When I noticed that he unmatched me, it felt like a gut punch. It was absolutely the right thing to do. There was no way I would put him in a position where he wouldn't be comfortable. 

And I know that it didn't come from a place of anger or negativity. It was the mature thing to do. 

What no one tells you is that sometimes being mature sucks.