This weekend? Not my finest. It’s not that I’m disappointed I only lasted 9 of the 40 days of Lent sober. I pretty much expected to break that pseudo-promise I made to Jesus (which actually was more of a dare from Alexis. Good thing we didn’t wager on it).
After a plethora of gin, rum, a few bowls of weed, a shit ton of paranoia and two giant strawberry sundaes, I should probably start writing an open letter of apology to many people.
So, here we go:
- Dear Jesus, I’m sorry I broke my promise to stay sober for 40 days for you. Let’s both be honest with each other. We both knew this was bound to happen. Instead of chastising me for a “mistake,” I think it would be much healthier for us to celebrate the fact that I lasted nine days! Love- Anastasia.
- Dear Alexis, My deepest apologies for calling, texting, or otherwise irritating you about the calorie content of one strawberry sundae while you were visiting your friend on vacation. Also, thanks for directing my drunk and high-as-a-kite-ass to the train when I was too lazy to figure it out myself. Love- Anastasia.
- Dear favorite drinking buddy, Please forgive me for calling you at midnight when I knew you had to be up early on Saturday. At the time, knowing that a mutual friend of ours had seen Kate Winslet in the street seemed to be more important than a cure for cancer and I desperately needed to spread the word. Love- Anastasia.
- Dear friend who Kate Winslet touched, I hope your boyfriend didn’t mind that I repeatedly caressed your shoulder and begged you to repeat the story of when Kate Winslet touched your shoulder to compliment on your jacket. Thanks for showing me the exact spot in which this all went down as well. Love- Anastasia.
- Dear best friend, Thanks for supporting my decision to drunkenly text my ex boyfriend before we left the bar. I only wish I had listened to your suggestion of what to say. Please forgive me for my paranoid state in which I thought I saw same ex boyfriend on the train and freaked out a little bit (or a lot). Love- Anastasia
- Dear ex boyfriend, I do not have an apology for you actually. In fact, you got off easy. I’m surprised I didn’t give you a bigger piece of my mind. Be thankful that marijuana is the international pacifier. Love- Anastasia.
- Dear guy with crush on me, Sorry I never texted you back. I had not passed out, like you assumed. I was smoking a bowl with more important friends, playing on NYC Sanitation trucks and just didn’t feel you were important enough to respond to at the time. It’s never going to happen, so enjoy your pipe dream. Love- Anastasia.
- And finally: Dear personal trainer, sorry for everything i put in my mouth this weekend. Love- Anastasia
Yep. Pretty much me the entire weekend.
I’m “Catholic.” I use quotes because I don’t go to church anymore and usually only think about god as I board a plane. I have broken seven of the Ten Commandments and all the Deadly Sins. Multiple times. I’m likely to be a repeat offender as well.
Completely oblivious of the basics of Lent (example: it ends on Easter and lasts forty days, who knew?), Alexis got me up to speed. Call that religiously ignorant, but I’ve never actually given something up long enough to celebrate the big Easter finale. Since I graduated from a religious university and used to attend church every Sunday for the first sixteen years of my life, I feel compelled to give Lent a solid effort this year.
So, in honor of whatever Jesus did to spawn this liturgical season of miserable fasting, I’m ending the only relationship that has ever been good to me, breaking up with the only boyfriend who has never let me down: I’m giving up alcohol for forty days and forty god-damn-long-ass nights.
Fuck me, just writing that hurts.
You may be thinking to yourself, “How pathetic. She can’t give up booze for a little over a month?” But it’s not that simple. This effectively ruins many important parts of my life: socializing with friends, dating and sex life, and will almost guarantee a broken promise of a threesome by the end of March I made to a friend of mine. I don’t like breaking promises.
Let’s be honest, I only have a few more years left of acting like a complete asshole with no responsibility. It’s only a matter of time before I either have to start paying off those college loans or get knocked up. Nine months of sobriety? No thank you, I’ll adopt.
Going sober for forty days right now is huge. I dare you to find a handful of 24 year olds willing to even try.
On the other hand though, I’m going to try and be positive about this decision. Less time spent at bars inevitably means more time spent at the gym. I’ll probably read a few more books than normal. Maybe I can even learn a new language, or feed the homeless or some shit. A personal alcohol detox will be a good thing. At the very least, I can look back one day and tell my kids about Mommy’s forty days of sobriety. It will be a very, very good thing.
Rrrrrrrrrrright.
See you in forty days.
I’m already imagining myself weeping in the back of my closet while suckling on an alcohol-free O’Douls one lonely Saturday night.
-Anastasia “Sober” Beam
ps Alexis is giving up caffiene, so it’s safe to say we won’t be talking for the next few days.
