Cuddling my Cthulhu

In Which the Blog Suddenly Lurches Back to 2018...

How to drink around me

"Sobriety Dwarves (Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired)"

Mr. D linked me to this cute article about Kristen Bell smoking pot even though her husband is sober. Her husband, Dax Shepard, has responded on Twitter: "That would be like a diabetic expecting their partner to never eat dessert. Get real!" (@daxshepard)

I decided this was a good time to share my notes on "How To Drink Around Me." An earlier version I shared on Fetlife got some appreciative comments, both from sober folks and from their friends who aren't always sure what to do.

I have been sober from alcohol since August 2013, and I tend to eschew other drugs as well, but I don't care what you do. I'd prefer that people not ask my permission. "Is it OK with you if I..." or "Would it bother you...?" bothers me more than if you just go ahead. (And there's no polite way to say No, it's not OK; yes, it bothers me.) If you want to drink, go ahead; I'd rather you not make a big deal out of it.

I do prefer not to smell it, or to kiss you when you have it on your breath. If we are sitting together, I would appreciate you keeping your glass on the far side of you, away from me. (Sometimes it smells good, which can trigger a craving. Sometimes it smells awful to me now, like rotting fruit, but even that can trigger a craving, because Addictions are Stupid.) Think of it as like not blowing smoke at nonsmokers. Dax might eat cake in front of a diabetic, but I bet he wouldn't get right up in their face with it...

My partners still drink. I'm not expecting everyone to be a teetotaller. But any new people in my life will be far more intriguing if they aren't rushing for the bottle (or the bong). Like the Fetlife interest says, "it's even kinkier when you're sober."

You guys go ahead and discuss flavor-notes and brew-pub minutiae, but know that I will be looking for the conversational exits.

Yes, I own absinthe spoons; I do put booze out for party guests. But I don't cook with wine anymore. Hat-tip to The Sober Kitchen -- no, it does not all cook off. I got tired of handing the monster in the dungeon at the bottom of my brain the keys to his cell. I use nonalcoholic bitters. I bake with nonalcoholic vanilla extract, not because of the trace ETOH content but because the smell of it might trigger a craving.

Cravings are hard work. They hit me rarely nowadays -- it's much, much easier now than it was during my first sober year. But if one happens, it's like I'm lifting a heavy weight that no-one else can see. If someone asked you to help them open a jar while you were in the middle of moving a piano, you might snap at them. "Can't you see I'm effin busy?!" So, my apologies for my occasional testiness when I am having an invisible struggle. It will pass!

Buy me a Coke? I would love it if you would offer to bring me something nonalcoholic. I'd much rather not have to stand at the bar gazing at the array of bottles, or fish through a cooler full of beer in hopes of finding a soda. (I will drink a regular cola, ideally with lemon wedge, though I usually prefer black coffee or ginger beer. Also good: plain tonic water, seltzer with or without juice, or ice water with lemon.)

If you are hosting, think up a few "EANABs" to offer -- "Equally Attractive Non-Alcoholic Beverages." Yes, we can drink tap water, but if everyone else is having elaborate cocktails or wine in beautiful glasses, I am going to feel a little mopey.

Here is the recipe for my current mocktail of choice, which Mr. D has dubbed the
Pez Manhattan:

1 part orange juice
1 part cranberry or cran/pom juice blend
2 to 4 parts tonic water
A squeeze of lemon juice
6-8 drops of bitters (Fee Brothers makes a lovely range of nonalcoholic bitters; I'm currently a big fan of the grapefruit one)
Optional maraschino cherry or a dash of cherry juice
Serve over ice.

Share and enjoy!

A little compassion and a salted caramel chocolate.

I had an intense kinky long weekend, so now I have to write about subdrop. *sigh*

Subdrop is a subset (heh) of endorphin crash; see also "top drop." See also "event drop" or "con drop," after the wild activity of a long-anticipated convention or festival is over. Tuesday is a good day for drop. On Monday I was catching back up with my sweet regular life, reconnecting with my beloved nestmate, Mr. Darkness, and having a cozy TV night together. Then on Tuesday afternoon, when I should have been hotly productive, I began to flounder. That was when the bleak mood of exhausted despair set in. Everything I tried to work on was terrible. My body was terrible. Oh hello, I said to my inner monster: I see what you're trying to do. Nice fucking try.

Maybe ALL writing is self-help.

"Oracule" by djh (2014)

Why this blog? Because I sometimes feel so alone -- sober among the partiers; bi/poly/kinky in the straight, mononormative culture (which is also "vanilla," but with an unexamined predilection for male dominance and CNC.

Dildo Mountain, and the Hangover to End All Hangovers

"Dildo Mountain" (djh, 2015)

Today is my soberversary. Five years ago last night -- very late last night-- I took my final sip of what was, for me, slow poison. Five years ago today was The Hangover To End All Hangovers.