Yesterday was a great day. I spent most of the afternoon speaking to a potential new lover on the internet. I have recently got back into internet dating, because it’s quick and easy and I don’t find it sad or scary any more. In the evening I took the AA meeting in Notting Hill, where my good friend Andy gave the chair; then I headed to Victoria where I met up with Martin, the man I had been heavily flirting with online earlier on. He lives in Brighton and we drove down to his house straight away, too excited to ignore the urge. I had a fantastic night – though it was completely unplanned, I let myself enjoy it without getting too hung up on emotions and feelings and the fact that I didn’t know him that well. I didn’t feel dirty or cheap or used – I totally wanted to be there. Martin was very sexy and I’m glad I spent the night with him. I had never enjoyed sex in my life, not once, because I was always terrified of it. Last night that changed. My confidence had grown so much that I was even able to have a good chat with Martin’s housemate before heading to bed. Something’s changed in me this year – I feel so much more comfortable in my own skin these days. It’s a fantastic feeling.

 Today I got the train home and Martin said he would like to see me again soon. On the train I was filled with peace and serenity, not the usual anxiety and fear that I always came home with after drunken nights out when I’d slept with some stranger. Whether I was going to see Martin again or not, nothing could spoil my mood on the train. Then when I got home my feelings changed – I was suddenly overcome with that old sense of isolation and loneliness which I get on Sundays when I feel like there’s nothing to look forward to. I could no longer believe that Martin would want to see me again; I thought of all the reasons why I had failed to perform for him last night and why he wouldn’t be that keen on me any more. My co-dependency resurfaced with a vengeance, as it always does, because there is no cure for this illness. All I can do when I feel like that is sit through it. In reality there is a good chance that Martin will want to see me again, because he said he did, and whether he does or not shouldn’t matter to me anyway: last night was brilliant regardless of what might happen in the future. Recovery has taught me to question and pick these feelings apart, and to a good extent I have managed to overcome the pain over the course of this evening. I don’t feel like crying any more, which is good. Years ago that loneliness would have eaten away at me for days. Though I seem to be getting better, what worries me is that if Martin and I actually end up seeing each other on a regular basis, my co-dependency could get worse. If I felt like that today after just meeting him once, what will I feel like the second, third and fourth time? As we get closer, I will inevitably begin to feel more vulnerable, as I do with everyone close in my life. As I’ve found with my friends in AA, the feelings of rejection and insecurity lie there dormant all the time, waiting for the first opportunity to ignite. All I can do, as my sponsor would say, is pray on it.


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