Sober in Love

Prologue

I opened my eyes to the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me, its blades casting shadows against the dimly lit room.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I lay there, trying to shake off the haze of the night before. It was a familiar sensation, waking up after a night of revelry, the ache in my head matching the ache in my heart.

The thought crossed my mind, as it often did, that falling in love was akin to stumbling into a drunken stupor. The similarities were uncanny, the way inhibitions vanished and words tumbled out, nonsensical and unfiltered.

I chuckled bitterly, thinking about the stupid things I'd said, the declarations that felt foreign even as they slipped from my tongue.

Love, like alcohol, had a way of making me do things I wouldn't dare consider in my right mind. It blurred the lines between rationality and recklessness, leading me down paths I'd warn my closest friends to avoid. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I'd disregarded the waving red flags, convincing myself that these behaviors were simply par for the course, a norm in the world of men.

But when the morning light pierced through the curtains, reality hit me like a tidal wave. It was the post-party awakening, a stark realization of the foolishness I'd indulged in, all in the name of love. Regrets flooded my mind, the embarrassment of my actions seeping through the fog of my thoughts.

And perhaps that's why I found solace in the embrace of alcohol during my single days. It provided a semblance of that drunken feeling without the risk of falling in love. The allure was undeniable; the addictive rush of being intoxicated without the heartache that inevitably followed.

The distinction, however, became evident with each hangover. Waking up after a night of drinking left no room for remorse, only the desire to relive the thrill once more. But waking up from the intoxication of love was different. It left behind a bitter taste of regret, a lingering ache that begged the question: how could I have been so foolish?

In that moment of clarity, a revelation struck me like lightning. I didn't crave a love that made me drunk on emotions. No, what I yearned for was to be soberly in love. To have the clarity of mind, the control over my actions, and the ability to discern red flags for what they truly were – warnings not to be dismissed.

I longed for a love where I could remain true to myself, where I wouldn't lose sight of who I was in the fervor of affection. I wanted a connection that transcended mere romantic entanglement, one where we were partners in crime, best friends sharing life's journey.

So, I made a silent vow to myself.

From that day forward, I sought a love that allowed me to remain grounded, where I could love without losing my sense of self. I craved a love that let me be comfortably sober, for it was in that state of clarity that I knew I could find the happiness I truly desired.