By the middle of August last year, I was content being single, working on myself, started a new temp job, and minding my business, as usual. I knew moving on from Biker Guy would be easier this time, because he really showed what a shit head he is. I already faulted myself for giving him that chance. But the third time’s a charm, right? Shame on me – again!
One evening, I received a text from a number without a name. I removed Biker Guy’s number from my phone, but I recognized the area code.
Can we talk, it read.
I couldn’t believe I was hearing from him again. There was nothing to talk about, because he flat out and deliberately lied to me with a crazy, calculated, concocted story about July 4th. I told him this wasn’t a mistake; he did this purposefully and selfishly. He wanted to see me in person to apologize and “explain.” I didn’t think he deserved to see me, but I caved and had him meet me in a public place. (That day, I was at the beach and had a few beers in me already; I’m sure it helped to lower my tolerance for his bullshit.)
Biker Guy claimed to be really sorry about what he did, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him. After all, he lied to me before and did some pretty shitty things. He claimed he “got scared,” but that made little sense to me in hindsight. Like a fool, I wanted to believe him – so I did. I’m not sure if I saw it correctly, but I thought I saw him smirk when he saw me cave. We started hanging out again, but this time, I told him it’s going to take a long time to gain his trust back. I didn’t want to be romantic with him, because he hadn’t earned it. It took a while for me to even want to sit close to him. I told him I didn’t know how long it would take for me to earn his trust – or if he ever could. Repairing the damage he did would take some time, and he seemed to think a few weeks would do it. Hmmmph.
In the meantime, Biker Guy’s brother was in town; he was his only family member I met. All of us went out a few times to restaurants and bars. It was the only thing his brother would do, and so it was what Biker Guy did, too. It wasn’t helping his case that drinking was still a main event, and one that I wasn’t as interested in participating anymore. Everything involved drinking, and his brother was a severe alcoholic. He reminded me of Big Liar just a few months before he passed – swollen, sallow skin, sloth-like movements, and saying nonsensical things. I knew his brother wouldn’t make it to the end of the year. It was a terrible reminder of what alcohol does to someone, even if the person was once extremely successful. Even prior to that, I was slowing down drinking habits, and this was one culprit that turned me off completely to alcohol.
Biker Guy had events he wanted me to attend. But then it became every single weekend some event or other, and it was draining. Everything involved crowds, drinking, and eating shitty food. It was usually hot and a long day or night, or both. The motorcycle was uncomfortable for long rides. My body couldn’t take it; I am still not 100% healed from surgery. It was such an unhealthy lifestyle, I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt that being with him would eventually be my demise.
By the holidays, drinking didn’t appeal to me anymore, so I wouldn’t be going out to bars or places with unhealthy food. Alcohol’s effects were getting worse, and my body didn’t process it the way it used to. My stomach was a mess, and many things cleared up when I quit drinking. I wasn’t drinking every day, but even as often as two to three times a week hurt me tremendously. One night of drinking took two to three days to feel normal again. My cholesterol was high, I felt awful all the time, and I was lucky to feel good one day out of the week. It wasn’t worth it to me, and I decided this was no longer a lifestyle I can live.
Nothing Biker Guy and I did was healthy, and everything was all about his entertainment and his club and his this and his that. He never asked me what I wanted to do. I wanted out of the relationship, but I stayed with him, because he begged me to give him time and “he was going through so much” – and always has something going on since I met him. It was a year and a half of my time (off and on) already. Absolutely NOTHING had changed since I met him, except my opinion about him and the amount of weight he rapidly lost. He did nothing to work on himself, and I grew tired of him bringing me down.
The last time I spent the night at Biker Guy’s house was the announcement of Biden’s presidency – and we were going to a bike event filled with Trump supporters. I can get along with anyone, but at this point in my life, I don’t want to spend it with a bunch of people that aren’t like-minded. What really bothered me was when I went to use the restroom, some of the toilet paper had Obama’s face printed. I felt it was totally classless, tasteless, and ignorant – and not the type of place I want or need to be around.
Biker Guy begged me to attend this event; hindsight says he likes to be seen with a woman, especially at events like these. It makes him look good. He had to volunteer, leaving me to wander around. It was a tiny place with nothing to do except sit around and eat and drink and talk to people I didn’t really know. This is not the type of event I would choose for myself or would want to do in the future. These types of events give me anxiety, because there are too many people in a small space. For me, going to events like these is nearly equivalent to going on a date to church, except the church serves alcohol.
Now – you can’t leave a girl to wander around by herself with free alcohol when she has to behave and hold the celebration of the presidency within her. So, I had nothing to do with myself except take jello shots, and I lost count of how many I had. (I also forgot how they creep up.) In addition, I drank an unknown amount of very strong vodka/cranberry drinks – all of this on a mostly empty stomach, because I was allergic to most of the food available. The drinks must have hit me suddenly, because there are blanks in my memory. I recall talking to people all night. No one realized who I was with, because Biker Guy had to do his volunteer work. I think I spilled my guts to some women about him, but I don’t remember what. It seemed other people could tell we were not a suitable match.
I vaguely remember being at the gathering at the end of the night. In my shit-faced mind, I said some things I thought were funny without realizing the moment was inappropriate. (It would have been funny in a tv sitcom or to my friends.) I remembered little about it until Biker Guy relayed the events. In one event, I vaguely remember him asking me to hold his keys. I put them in my bra and forgot, and I didn’t feel them when I reached in to see where they were, because they slid underneath. We looked for them for 30 minutes. He made it pretty clear I pissed him off, and I was not caring about a thing in my drunken stupor. I felt it was okay for me to act up once in a while, too.
That was the last time I got shit-faced drunk.
Free The Burden 
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