Day Three of a Three Day Drunk is critical. Let me make this perfectly clear to you. You MUST have three days, in a row, all drunk.
To recap, the first was really emotional. Shit just comes out. You’re confused, you’re sad, a tiny bit angry maybe, but largely just in shock. Day one snaps you out of it.
Day two is a bridge day. You’re a little hungover from Day One so the hair of the dog is nice, and it lets you slip into the drunk a little faster than in Day One. It’s good to destroy something of your ex’s in Day 2, or at least work on getting whatever exists of them out of our physical space forever. Maybe you cut them out of social media, or maybe you burn their clothes. Whatever. Day Two is about transition.
Day Three is THE MOST critical day of a Three Day Drunk.
It’s like quitting smoking with Chantix and not taking it for that extra month. If you don’t commit, if you don’t go the distance, you won’t ever succeed. I write to you today in memory of Day Three, rather than in the throes of it, because of that reason. It needed my full and undivided attention.
Day Three is acceptance and rationalization. Not about your ex – Day Three is about you remembering who you fucking are. And you, you sexy bitch, are fucking amazing.
For me, Day Three had several ingredients.
- Booze (obviously) – but not from inside my own home.
- Distractions – I collected a primary and a secondary for good measure.
- A willingness to do something you would probably be embarrassed about later.
Last night was no exception. I picked up a guy on a dating site, two if I’m being honest (remember, backups are critical and you’ll see why soon). One I made plans with, the other just sent me unsolicited photos. He was in my back pocket.
Sidebar: this was my first unsolicited naked photo. Not full frontal, but there was some ass and they gave me a good, overall understanding that he has a rockin’ body. I doubted my first choice for the evening after I got those photos. Seriously. A fucking hot body.
Primary distraction and I went on an evening hike to a pretty popular place for such activities (little to no chance he’d rape and murder me there). We came equipped with booze-filled metal containers and we sat at the top of that butte and he gave me all his insane right-wing theories about Antifa, Obama, and the left-wing media (which, evidently, includes NPR). I had no idea the world was in such peril, or that there was a single person out there who honestly thought it was ok for a man to say “grab her by her pussy”, but here we were.
I persisted. He was hot. Great shoulders, put my ex to shame with those shoulders. He was about a solid foot taller than me and had probably 200lbs on me in sheer mass. He carried me when I had trouble making it down a hill, and he gave me a piggy back ride just for fun. He has crazy political beliefs but for the most part was sweet. He had a purpose, he served it well.
We got to have a fun tipsy make out sesh, which was nice. Just was not feeling it, though. I consider myself to be pretty middle of the road when it comes to most political topics, which means I can normally stomach the furthest reaches of either side. But this just was a little too much for me last night.
So I climbed off him and we parted ways, I immediately called the gentleman in my back pocket who, sadly, was a little farther than I wanted to drive. So we talked for a few hours, exchanged a few flirtatious comments, and went to bed.
Here is what last night gained me:
- Even over 40 I can still get several really hot guys to spend time with me with less than 24 hours notice.
- I never wanted to realize it but my ex lied to me for weeks (he was with her for weeks before I found out, and he never actually told me… I discovered it). All I ever wanted was brutal honesty, and that was the very first thing he couldn’t give me.
- I’m also realizing he was also pretty far right, but too polite to talk about it. Last night I remembered seeing photos of him and his ex-wife outside a Trump hotel sending the POTUS well wishes. I must have compartmentalized that for the sake of self-preservation.
In the end, the night allowed me to realize that I only saw what I wanted in him, I never actually saw him. I put too much faith in people too quickly as well. He never proved to me he could be trusted the way I trusted him, it was ultimately my own fault when he lied. But he did allow me to realize I need to date a man, not a boy. And he allowed me to figure out what I was doing wrong all these years, and what I can do better next time.
So once again, for the umpteenth time since my friend introduced me to The Three Day Drunk, it saved me once again.
It’s a process, and you must absolutely be committed. But by the time you close out Day Three you are on the road to recovery OR, at the very least, in a solid position to tell that ass hole to fuck off should s/he try to slide back into your life. You can do better. Seriously. You can.