Dating an ad man

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. “Well,” she told me, “be scared in the front.” But the desire to escape ourselves is so strong that we can often find a distraction no matter how slim the pickings.

I would go to a Saturday women’s meeting in Crenshaw for lesbians. One day at the crusty Brentwood “ladies who lunch” meeting, a tattooed, dark-haired man walked in.

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.

She was what I called “guy light.” “It would be better,” I told her one night, “if you had a penis.

“Baby, you only going to go to women’s meetings and gay meetings,” she said. You gonna focus on recovery.” “Well that sounds boring,” I said.

“But how am I going to get laid going to women’s meetings and gay meetings? But I had just come out of a psych ward, and had also just cracked my head open when I fell backwards after having a grand mal seizure when my meds were changed, so I was wiling to try it another way.

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She didn’t date straight girls, newcomers, or crazy people.

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.

I even wondered with some concern whether I weighed more than he did, again, not because I felt like I needed to lose weight, but because I had absorbed the cultural script that says that women should be daintier than guys.

But it’s not the Upper Paleolithic, and I don’t need anyone to defend me from a saber-toothed cat; it’s 2016, and we know that femininity is a social construct.

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