The “A” Bomb

     Or maybe it’s the “A.A.” bomb.  

      The man I had the Brooks Brothers date with–I guess I’ll call him Spencer–SOMEHOW figured out that I’m in A.A.  He mentioned it via text message, which made it difficult to gauge his emotional tone, but he didn’t run screaming in the opposite direction, so I guess he’s still hanging in there.  

       I calmly told him that we should talk about it when I saw him again and I would be happy to answer any questions he had.  I mean, what else can one say?  Though the sum total of my opinion about A.A. is: “Yes, it’s vaguely cult-y, but I go to a lot of Agnostic meetings and I can’t quote the Big Book without feeling like an idiot, and in any event, IT BEATS BEING DEAD.”  

      I would probably be better off if I was a little more indoctrinated–I was doing better when I had a sponsor and doing more service instead of just cookies.  I’m counting days AGAIN.

      I also get the feeling that he’s a little concerned that I’m out screwing around.  Normally he’d be right, but as circumstance would have it, I’m not seeing anyone.  The guys at the Studio don’t count, at least not to me, but perhaps, as a man, he has a different perspective.  Though I hardly think that anyone could construe giving Milton a swirly as legitimate romantic activity.  I assure you, Spencer, Milton is no threat to you! 

      That is actually pretty funny.  I keep thinking about flushing the toilet with Milton’s head in it.  It makes me crack up at totally inopportune times.  The deli.  The laundry mat.  People look at me like I am crazy.  

       Anyway, it’s just a feeling I have because he makes jokes about me confusing him with other guys.  He’s not pulling any jealous controlling bullshit.  After the Surgeon, my tolerance for jealous controlling bullshit is pretty low.   

                           *                          *                      *

     Actually, here is a funny story that is typical of what happens when I meet a really, really attractive man at the Studio: 

     I have aregular, and the first time I met him, I was thrilled.  WHAT A BABE!  He’s a tall, very well-built Japanese guy.  You can see that he lifts weights–he looks very athletic.  He also has a great face and a nice haircut and he always wears stylish, elegant clothes.  And he was born in Paris, so he had a French accent.  Accents usually don’t do much for me, but on this guy, it was sexy. He smells like nice clean clothes. 

      I was getting dressed in back after I met him, and I was practically doing a happy dance!  I wonder what I get to do to him! I get to see him naked—yaaaay!

      Well, let me tell you what I get to do to him: jump up and down on his stomach for an hour.

       Yeah, you read that correctly. 

        He doesn’t even take his clothes off.  I get nothing, except a little exercise.  And the threat of a broken ankle.  Power-walking on someone’s abdomen in high heels is pretty difficult. I have tripped on more than one occasion. 

       At first I was afraid that my shoes would puncture him, like a scene in a bad horror movie.  That would be fun to explain to the cops! But that has never happened, obviously.

     I don’t even get the satisfaction of thinking that he hires me because he thinks I’m hot.  Frankly, I think he sees me because he finds me to be the optimal weight for stomach-stomping, and I’m fit enough to do it for a whole hour.   

     He does tip very well.  He is, after all, a gentleman.  

5 thoughts on “The “A” Bomb”

  1. “Yes, it’s vaguely cult-y, but I go to a lot of Agnostic meetings and I can’t quote the Big Book without feeling like an idiot, and in any event, IT BEATS BEING DEAD.”

    Actually the best summary of how I felt about my time in AA. I did and still do like the “serenity prayer” if I leave the God part out and there’s nothing quite like not getting too hungry, angry, lonely, or tired.

    But that was about the extent of my indoctrination. It’s also free…

  2. Hi Advo, thanks for your comment!

    What, you’re not a Bill Wilson groupie? You’ve never done a field trip to Stepping Stones?

    I can’t imagine why not!

    Sorry, sorry…snark isn’t becoming…but I wear it so well!

    KEEP COMING BACK! We have cookies! xoxo

  3. Dear Miss Margo,

    I do not tell people that I am in AA for one reason. If people know I used to have a drinking problem, they think I am fragile. They doubt whether I can handle stress, setback, etc. I don’t need people thinking I might head back to the bottle.

    In another vein, when I was three years sober, I got an ear infection and went to a doctor. He looked at my ear. It was so obviously an infection, I could diagnosis it myself. Of course, he took my medical history, and I told him about my alcoholism. He actually said that my ear problem might be due to my liver. The idiot. Lesson: people are stupid.

    When I got sober, Lois Wilson was still alive. I used to go to an annual New York AA dinner and dance at one of the hotels. Lois Wilson would be there on the dais. One year she gave a short talk. People were in awe. Such a great woman. A living link to the founding of A…..zzzzzz. Oh, sorry. I dozed off there.

    I lived in Cobble Hill Brooklyn when I got sober. I knew the exact house where the Wilsons lived back in the Roaring Twenties, when Lois worked at Abraham and Strauss. When AA’ers visited, we would walk past and gaze at the building, wondering why there was no plaque. Another link to the founding of A….zzzz. Anyway, I was not immune to the personality cult aspects of the program. (Thank you, Comrade Stalin!)

    People in AA can be really strange. I’ve seen people talk to civilians in a way that’s really off putting. All they talk about is their disease, their program. It’s Skinnerian. They are rewarded for talking like that at meetings, coffee, etc. But they do not realize that this behavior will not be rewarded in a different social setting. Most people do not interpret their whole life through a disease/recovery paradigm. When folks in AA do that, they seem daft.


  4. OH MAH GAWD!!!

    If my blog ever gets more than 8 readers and/or commenters, I am going to throw a virtual internet blog-reader appreciation ceremony. While I am crazy appreciative of the all readers who are inclined to comment on a semi-regular basis (Advo! Canadian friend! Person for the Tropics!), this post of John’s takes the cake. It is even better than the one he left on my “ASSAULT WITH HAIRBRUSH” blog entry. And that is saying a lot.

    I am constantly astonished that alcoholics (ALCOHOLICS!!! JUNKIES!!!) could read “Bill’s Story” and not see this codependent addict conman living off his wife and exploiting her at every turn! What a jerk!

    A “great woman,” yeah right. A long-suffering spouse to a narcissist and obsessive philanderer–that’s more like it.

    I’ve kinda given up on doing the Steps. At first, I was terrified enough to do them no matter what, because I felt I was going to die (and I was). I thought doing them would be like programming a VCR–“this is what you need to do in order not to drink anymore.” But as I worked on them (and got some sober time in), I just couldn’t take them seriously. There’s some good common-sense stuff and Jungian psychology in there, but also a lot of horseshit. Ready to have the Higher Power remove all our shortcomings? Really? REALLY?

    Yeah, and I’m ready to pick up a bus and carry it to the Upper West Side.


    Toasting my coffee mug of diet Ginger Ale to you, John.

    Keep coming back! coookie cookie cookie


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