Dave's surgery got cancelled just as I thought, call it intuition, however with all his health problems it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. My friend Mike who lives upstairs from Dave and Dave's dad Bob told me what Bob said. Bob is 88 years old and a hell of alot healthier than his son who's a year younger than me, 43. That's pretty fucked up, but anyway Bob said, "Dave's going to die before he has the surgery." When I woke up today, thinking about Dave took me back in time a bit. I met him for the first time when we were both 17 on the phone. We both loved drugs and concerts. I finally met him in person when we were about 18 when the 3 of us, he, myself and Tami, my best friend for 13 years many years ago.
Dave had had a 7 year love affair with a fucked up crack head named Kirk who was also a chronic liar and cleptomaniac. After he called it quits with Kirk, he never went with another man, claiming that that time in his life was "just a phase." I have fond memories of Dave partying with mushrooms, LSD, pot, hash, and later meth, and for me painkillers. I had been really fucked up on painkillers back in the day when I was strung out on them, rented a motel room, took a handful of pills. I remember opening the door to the motel room, smiling, grabbing his cock, laying down on the bed, him penetrating me, then waking up 6 or 7 hrs later because I had fallen dead asleep. I miscalculated and took to many. LOL. I look back on that and laugh. He was understandably not happy, as that was defo not an ego pleaser, but what the hell, perhaps any men reading this can know how WE women feel sometimes? lol.
Anyway, Dave never wanted to be gay, insisted he was not, but that one time in the motel room was the only time I remember him being able to get it up without his cock being sucked for an hour or more, plus the potential promise of anal sex. The thing is he was never really turned on by pussy, and I'm not into anal sex, so the times we fucked I had to be spun so I could suck his cock for a couple hours before he proceeded to fuck me. That's why I insist that he's secretly always been gay, though he didn't want to be. He eventually married and had a son, adopted another son, the one his wife gave birth to from getting knocked up by another man during the time they were divorced (and later remarried.)
Well we remained good friends over the years, but I cut out the sex part over 14 years ago. Now during this time up until a little over 2 years ago, he would escape like me through meth. When he got his wife knocked up some 13 years ago, his folks gave him a large 3 bedroom house. He's never had to work or pay rent or support his family. I admit to having secretly resenting the hell out of him because I thought he had it too easy. He had no source of income, so obviously his folks paid his food, utilities, cars, and toys, yet he claimed to be constantly miserable. "Dude if you're miserable then why don't you get a job?" Well he did a couple different times one for a year, another for maybe 6 months, but he still didn't have to pay rent. His son was in alot of movies until the past year when he became to ill to drive his son all over timbukto.
At the time I was getting loaded, all I wanted was the freedom to get loaded without hassle, but I always had to cover my rent, food, and whatever else I wanted. The problem of course was that there were times during my active addiction that I couldn't cover rent, which wasn't a huge hassle when I happened to be employed. I had been a nomad living in my car, motels, drug houses, or occasionally crashing at Mom's. I loved the freedom and my bank account wasn't constantly dwindling, as rent has always cost me even more than my dope habit. During the times when I was homeless with no job however, was a living fucking nightmare. For a period of a year, I had lived in the spare bedroom of Dave's and paid the cheap rent of $250/month, plus he got all kinds of free meth.
The money he got from me was his only income, we partied, we got along, but he still kicked me out after a year saying he wanted the house to himself. My habit prevented me from working full time and rent elsewhere was too high so when he kicked me I had nowhere to go. So when he claimed depression and being broke, I secretly resented him like hell. I would have given my left tit to be in the situation he had. Hell I didn't even mind working, but to be put up rent free, to shoot meth and write to my heart's content was my definition of heaven. Recently a normie friend of mine pointed out that the reason he kicked me out was because I refused to fuck him. Da. That never even occured to me, but I think she was right. Now he's depressed that his wife has refused to fuck him for 3 years. I never said anything, but perhaps the next time he brings it up, I'll gently suggest that "Dude don't take this the wrong way or anything, but maybe the reason your wife doesn't want to have sex with you is because when you have sex, at least with us, it was all about you."
The state he's in now, however not having sex is the least of his worries. I've asked him repeatedly to come to NA with me, but he refused. The one time he went was on my first year clean date, and he liked it, but refused to come back. It's literally 2 houses from where he lives, he doesn't work, there is no reason why he can't go! So instead, he sits in his house, getting more and more depressed, getting fatter, his diabetes way out of control, trapped by his own misery. He's dying and I got a phone call from my sponsor, she suggested telling him, "Dude you're dying, I love you, your kids love you I'm taking you to an NA meeting!" I will try one more time tomorrow after the meeting, but he will never go to a meeting. I can't help but think he chooses to be miserable, but as my sponsor pointed out, when you're that depressed, you see no way out. Sigh. I remember those days well.
I had asked God to remove the obsession with drugs and 2 weeks later I got busted, spent 17 days in the slammer and when I was out of jail the obsession was simply gone. Just like that after 25 years. It's not that I don't think about drugs and miss the glorius highs, but it's not like before where I HAD to have them and my mind wouldn't leave me alone until I scored. So I took 2 years on Dec 21st and although I still get frustrated wondering how the hell am I going to get through life, it's just a day at a time, like the program says. I love being able to spend time with my Mom, my family, my friends, and be there for people. I also like the fact I feel good about the fact that while I was a shitty employee the first year and a half of this job, I've been a very good employee the last 2 years I've worked there. That is an amends to the company I work for, even though they never knew about my addiction.
I feel so much better after talking to my sponsor for about an hour. She's glad that I'm really feeling good about living in the solution due to my chronic fatigue which I believe is because of all the weight I gained in recovery and borderline diabetes. God and NA gave me the strength to do something about losing more weight by giving me the desire to eat healthy. I went to the store yesterday and bought salad, veggies, fruit, and 100 calorie cookie or cracker bags (one a day if I want) for a snack. I haven't had the jones for the wrong foods. I attribute that to prayer. Anyway, I got to get going. Got to grab me a bowl of veggie stew before heading off for work.
Dave had had a 7 year love affair with a fucked up crack head named Kirk who was also a chronic liar and cleptomaniac. After he called it quits with Kirk, he never went with another man, claiming that that time in his life was "just a phase." I have fond memories of Dave partying with mushrooms, LSD, pot, hash, and later meth, and for me painkillers. I had been really fucked up on painkillers back in the day when I was strung out on them, rented a motel room, took a handful of pills. I remember opening the door to the motel room, smiling, grabbing his cock, laying down on the bed, him penetrating me, then waking up 6 or 7 hrs later because I had fallen dead asleep. I miscalculated and took to many. LOL. I look back on that and laugh. He was understandably not happy, as that was defo not an ego pleaser, but what the hell, perhaps any men reading this can know how WE women feel sometimes? lol.
Anyway, Dave never wanted to be gay, insisted he was not, but that one time in the motel room was the only time I remember him being able to get it up without his cock being sucked for an hour or more, plus the potential promise of anal sex. The thing is he was never really turned on by pussy, and I'm not into anal sex, so the times we fucked I had to be spun so I could suck his cock for a couple hours before he proceeded to fuck me. That's why I insist that he's secretly always been gay, though he didn't want to be. He eventually married and had a son, adopted another son, the one his wife gave birth to from getting knocked up by another man during the time they were divorced (and later remarried.)
Well we remained good friends over the years, but I cut out the sex part over 14 years ago. Now during this time up until a little over 2 years ago, he would escape like me through meth. When he got his wife knocked up some 13 years ago, his folks gave him a large 3 bedroom house. He's never had to work or pay rent or support his family. I admit to having secretly resenting the hell out of him because I thought he had it too easy. He had no source of income, so obviously his folks paid his food, utilities, cars, and toys, yet he claimed to be constantly miserable. "Dude if you're miserable then why don't you get a job?" Well he did a couple different times one for a year, another for maybe 6 months, but he still didn't have to pay rent. His son was in alot of movies until the past year when he became to ill to drive his son all over timbukto.
At the time I was getting loaded, all I wanted was the freedom to get loaded without hassle, but I always had to cover my rent, food, and whatever else I wanted. The problem of course was that there were times during my active addiction that I couldn't cover rent, which wasn't a huge hassle when I happened to be employed. I had been a nomad living in my car, motels, drug houses, or occasionally crashing at Mom's. I loved the freedom and my bank account wasn't constantly dwindling, as rent has always cost me even more than my dope habit. During the times when I was homeless with no job however, was a living fucking nightmare. For a period of a year, I had lived in the spare bedroom of Dave's and paid the cheap rent of $250/month, plus he got all kinds of free meth.
The money he got from me was his only income, we partied, we got along, but he still kicked me out after a year saying he wanted the house to himself. My habit prevented me from working full time and rent elsewhere was too high so when he kicked me I had nowhere to go. So when he claimed depression and being broke, I secretly resented him like hell. I would have given my left tit to be in the situation he had. Hell I didn't even mind working, but to be put up rent free, to shoot meth and write to my heart's content was my definition of heaven. Recently a normie friend of mine pointed out that the reason he kicked me out was because I refused to fuck him. Da. That never even occured to me, but I think she was right. Now he's depressed that his wife has refused to fuck him for 3 years. I never said anything, but perhaps the next time he brings it up, I'll gently suggest that "Dude don't take this the wrong way or anything, but maybe the reason your wife doesn't want to have sex with you is because when you have sex, at least with us, it was all about you."
The state he's in now, however not having sex is the least of his worries. I've asked him repeatedly to come to NA with me, but he refused. The one time he went was on my first year clean date, and he liked it, but refused to come back. It's literally 2 houses from where he lives, he doesn't work, there is no reason why he can't go! So instead, he sits in his house, getting more and more depressed, getting fatter, his diabetes way out of control, trapped by his own misery. He's dying and I got a phone call from my sponsor, she suggested telling him, "Dude you're dying, I love you, your kids love you I'm taking you to an NA meeting!" I will try one more time tomorrow after the meeting, but he will never go to a meeting. I can't help but think he chooses to be miserable, but as my sponsor pointed out, when you're that depressed, you see no way out. Sigh. I remember those days well.
I had asked God to remove the obsession with drugs and 2 weeks later I got busted, spent 17 days in the slammer and when I was out of jail the obsession was simply gone. Just like that after 25 years. It's not that I don't think about drugs and miss the glorius highs, but it's not like before where I HAD to have them and my mind wouldn't leave me alone until I scored. So I took 2 years on Dec 21st and although I still get frustrated wondering how the hell am I going to get through life, it's just a day at a time, like the program says. I love being able to spend time with my Mom, my family, my friends, and be there for people. I also like the fact I feel good about the fact that while I was a shitty employee the first year and a half of this job, I've been a very good employee the last 2 years I've worked there. That is an amends to the company I work for, even though they never knew about my addiction.
I feel so much better after talking to my sponsor for about an hour. She's glad that I'm really feeling good about living in the solution due to my chronic fatigue which I believe is because of all the weight I gained in recovery and borderline diabetes. God and NA gave me the strength to do something about losing more weight by giving me the desire to eat healthy. I went to the store yesterday and bought salad, veggies, fruit, and 100 calorie cookie or cracker bags (one a day if I want) for a snack. I haven't had the jones for the wrong foods. I attribute that to prayer. Anyway, I got to get going. Got to grab me a bowl of veggie stew before heading off for work.