How Drinking Killed My Father — and a Part of Me
Years after he passed, dating an alcoholic made me sober in a way I never knew I needed
Update 6/7/22: Level has a new home. You can read this article and other new articles by visiting LEVELMAN.com.
I met my partner on Instagram in the summer of 2018, after stumbling onto her profile through a friend I made via #CentralAmericanTwitter. A single comment led to a slide into the DMs, and for nearly eight months we chatted back and forth while living on opposite coasts. We seemed perfectly matched, but remained well-aware that distance had a way of creating an illusion of the ideal. So that winter, we decided to actually meet — in person. Looking back now, I know it was fate. But at the time, the idea of flying cross-country to take a chance on love seemed insane.
When I arrived at her doorstep in the middle of January, after walking through Soho in the freezing cold, it was the warmth of our connection that calmed my nerves. Being together was magical, but as it got later into the night, there seemed to be something she needed to tell me. Sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed, she looked at me directly and said, “I’m an alcoholic in recovery. I’ve been sober for two-and-a-half years.”
