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Tuesday, 28 November 2006 14:09 |
| The Advice Goddess
Amy Alkon |
When I was working late, my girlfriend, "Renee," and her gay best friend, "Eddie," got drunk and slept in the same bed. Eddie said heëd drunkenly staggered upstairs to her bedroom by accident. Renee said itës happened many times, heës "like a brother" and thereës no sex. Two nights later, I went to the emergency room (Renee wouldnët take me). When I returned, Eddie was upstairs again. Renee first denied it. Eddie joked he was "making a head count," then said he was looking for his dog. Iëve told Renee that if sheës my girlfriend, she canët get drunk and share a bed with other men. She says Iëm putting her "in a box" and dismisses my feelings (as usual). Am I wrong to believe that, even if thereës no sex, two adults sleeping in the same bed is intimacy Renee should save for me?
ÇƒÓ Her Straight Boyfriend
Letës
not confuse Bukowski with Nora Roberts. Your blotto girlfriend and her
equally shellacked buddy sleeping it off on the same bed isnët
"intimacy," itës flophouse sweat and dumpster breath times two.
Donët be too
quick to take refuge in the sparkly Teflon of Eddieës homo-hood. With
two people blind-drunk in bed, who can be expected to remember (or
care) who plays for which team? Cozy turns cuddly, bodies start rubbing
together, and the next day your girlfriendës muttering to herself, "How
odd . . . I dreamt Eddie was in my bed saying, ǃÚMy, my, Brad, what big
man-boobs you have!ë"
So, is it wrong
for Renee to turn her bed into the skid-row Sheraton? Well, apparently,
it isnët wrong for Renee. Or, maybe itës neither wrong nor right for
Renee, and simply part of a drinking problem: Adult swim in a fish tank
of gin turns into an adult slumber party ÇƒÓ not so much by choice, but
because Eddie managed to grope his way to a mattress with a warm body
on it instead of spending the night facedown, drooling into the living
room rug.
Not
unexpectedly, you find it troubling ÇƒÓ a dealbreaker, even ÇƒÓ that your
girlfriend regularly spoons some hairy drunk who marks your side of the
bed with his man smell. When you inform her of this, she acts like
youëve just issued an edict forbidding her to leave the house unless
sheës wearing one of those pup tents with a peephole. But, are you
putting her "in a box"? Of course you are ÇƒÓ the box where a guyës
girlfriend is free to see other men socially, except when sheës
half-naked and lying in bed.
In a
relationship, there are two peopleës feelings to consider. In this one,
there are hers and Eddieës. Where does that leave you? Well, for
starters, hitchhiking to get medical attention while theyëre back at
her place playing Barbieës Dream House (with wet bar).
Excuse me, but a
woman you call your girlfriend packs you off to the emergency room solo
and you come back for more? Notice anything missing here, such as even
the slightest show of concern for you or the relationship?
Clearly, your
priorities are different. It seems youëre looking for love. For her,
"Letës get drunk and pass out together!" takes precedence.
The only
question you should be asking now is "Why am I still here?" Itës a big
world out there, filled with single women. Perhaps there are better
ways to spend your time than hoping your girlfriend and her man in
chaps will pop out from under the covers with a more promising sort of
excuse, such as, "Actually, weëre right in the middle of an AA meeting!"
Read between the wines
I come from a
family that enjoys cocktail hour, but nobody ever tossed the TV out the
window. For me, two or even three glasses of wine with dinner is
normal. My boyfriend disagrees, and is constantly hinting that Iëve had
enough. Thatës for me to decide, donët you think?
ÇƒÓ Just Tipsy
Maybe you have a
drinking problem, or maybe you just have a boyfriend problem.
Ultimately, one of you has to put a cork in it for this to work.
To figure out
whether it should be you, test yourself by replacing "alcohol" with
"broccoli." Are you constantly worrying about where your next serving
of broccoli is coming from? Do you sneak broccoli when your friends
arenët looking, or invent special occasions that call for broccoli?
Have you ever snarled, "I can stop broccoli anytime I want!" and then
felt so bad about broccoli that having even more broccoli was your only
hope of feeling okay? If tossing a few, uh, florets, back at dinner
isnët stopping you from having the life you want, gently explain that
to the man in your life . . . ideally, while standing on one foot and
touching your index finger to the tip of your nose.
ï
Got a problem?
Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave, No. 280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or
e-mail AdviceAmy-at-aol.com (www.advicegoddess.com).
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