Design a site like this with
Get started

Sick Dick

Continued from chapter 3 of my memoir: Saturation

It took just over two short months before I became aware of how unhealthy his attachment to me had grown. And I allowed it. I participated. He gave me what I wanted – alcohol. We became like two sick spiders intertwined in a foul emotional web. What I offered him – I can’t say. But I do know that once he acknowledged my relationship with alcohol, his determination to spin his emotional web became fierce – as though he was in a competition with my drinking. One he could never possibly win.

I was well aware that we were very wrong together, but I simply didn’t care because after 11 glasses of wine a day (at that point), I’d become completely apathetic. The more Dick attempted to extort support and love from me the more I verbally attacked him for it, which did absolutely nothing to discourage him. If anything – for some twisted reason – he was fueled by it. His blatant need for emotional and psychological coddling disgusted me, but because I was always drunk I indulged him with insults, which he welcomed because any attention was better than none.

This foul dynamic between us blossomed into a weed of colossal and hideous proportions. His disregard for my contempt for him and the lengths I went to insult him entertained us both, and sometimes we even laughed about it together. Our nauseous chemistry attracted us to each other like two confused magnets. He had become as addicted to me as I was to alcohol.

We were married within a year and not three months after that, he had me arrested for the first time …

Published by Jennifer

I've finally found my happy place in sobriety. Yay! Go Me!

%d bloggers like this: