Definitely Better Now

by Ava Robinson

As the years went on, I was feeling younger and younger. My body was aging, but my soul was Benjamin Button–ing.

“I’ve been single, but I haven’t been alone. I’m not lonely.” That used to be true, but I wasn’t sure it had been recently. The nights curled up on my couch had started to feel long, my duvet was less cozy, and the single dinners I made for myself weren’t tasting like independence anymore.

Over this past year, I’d told her all that and so much more and watched her eyes change from afraid to disappointed, over and over, and I didn’t once look away. So, yes, I was changed.

We could laugh at anything—even the most horrible mistakes, mistakes that ended marriages or ended in jail time—because we were all facing whatever happened together. Your worst fear is suddenly funny when someone is holding your hand.

The Big Book taught us that our resentments were what made us sick. Alcoholics had a particular ability to blame the world around them instead of themselves. Bill W., the author of the Big Book, gave the example of how he believed it wasn’t his fault he drank; it was his nagging wife, the asshole who fired him, or the president for sending him to war.

I used to think I deserved to get drunk because I had weird parents and a weird childhood, but in the end, I was the only person who had to deal with the consequences of my actions.

I always felt like what I did when I drank didn’t matter, but that was also the problem: I did almost everything drunk, so nothing I did ever mattered—at least not to me. Which meant I was walking around living a purposeless life, easily distracted by the scent of anything new that would blissfully numb me out.

Being celibate wasn’t so bad as long as I had a steady supply of fried food.

This was like being forced to take acting for one semester in high school. I still woke up in cold sweats with the words zip, zap, zop on my tongue.

Mitchell and Ben were staring at each other, and they both looked furious in that way straight men do when they’re told that the film 300 is (a) bad, and (b) pretty homoerotic.

It was only this year, when I waded through agonizing hours in my own mind, that finally I understood it wasn’t me he couldn’t stand to be sober around—it was himself.

“For some people, it’s easier to be with someone, and for other people, maybe people like you and me, it feels easier—more in our comfort zone—to be alone.” I nodded. “Being alone is less complicated.”

“And then, well, marry someone who brings out the best in you.” “That’s what everyone says.” “Okay, think about it this way. When you’re with someone, if you like yourself, then they’re good for you. If you don’t like yourself, then they’re not. I think it’s that simple.”

I imagined a parallel-universe version of myself with doe eyes instead of my suspicious squinty ones, quickly writing “no cats!” on a flowery notepad with “How to Get a Man to Love Me” written on the top.

I could see him clutching his throat and barely being able to breathe because he wanted to say, so badly, that he’d been to Sundance, or on a yacht in the South of France.

I know my wife thought sobriety would be like a light switch. I was bad, now I can be good. But I still have bad days, even when I’m not drinking. And sometimes I need her to be patient with me. To believe me that I’m working on myself, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Men respected other men’s claims on a woman infinitely more than they respected a woman’s decision not to sleep with them.

I regretted removing my hand from his at Joe’s. I wished I could dip it into his pocket now. But I wasn’t sure how he’d react. Or, well, I was pretty sure he’d be fine with it, but I didn’t have the courage.

This is the honesty i mean 😭 i hate a “hed probably be disgusted” ass character

“So you’re telling me he just looks at you like that without having ever seen you naked?”

Then I started going through the motions of life. I took a shower. I threw my clothes away and took out the garbage so Sydney wouldn’t smell vomit in our kitchen. I drank a glass of water. Those simple things took hours. But finally, I’d sat back down in my bedroom, looked in the mirror, and decided that if I didn’t want to die, I would have to live very differently.

I wanted to be like the girls I watched fall in love and get married and have babies and live a normal fearless life. I didn’t want to be famous or rich or important, I just wanted to be able to feel my skin against my body and not want to tear it off.

You don’t have to be beholden to how you think people act when they date. You can ask for what you want, and he’ll do what he wants. It’s really that simple.”

“Actually, I don’t think I want to go in there at all.” I expected him to talk me into it. But he just said, “Okay,” and switched the truck into Reverse.

If I only have so many breaths, I want to take each one with intention.”