My dad was an alcoholic.
I never saw it until I was about 17 years old, and I had moved in with him.
He had gone from this amazing, loud, funny, confident man, to a shell of himself. A man who was viscious and verbally abusive to those closest to him.
A man who used the ‘fact’ he had paid for me my whole life (he totally didn’t) as a reason to blackmail me into giving him money.
It broke relationships. So much so, that when he died in 2013, although my sister and I did the honourable thing and paid for his funeral and sorted out his mess of a life, I felt nothing when he died. I was robotic. I hated him for how he had behaved and how he had put alcohol first, over his daughters.
You’d think, knowing this about me that anyone with an alcohol issue would be right off of my radar. That if I ever encountered anything like that again, I would run for the hills.
I thought that too.
In 2012, I met N. He was far from my usual type. Black hair, hazel eyes, slim built. He was intelligent and articulate and we got on really well.
Things progressed at a good pace.
For that first year, we had so much fun. Weekends away, nights out on the town, cooking together, shopping trips, all the fun stuff that comes with a relationship. I adored his family – and even thought he had had a very different upbringing to mine, they welcomed me with open arms.
He came from wealth. From a large family with lovely properties and money in the bank. But his family never made me feel inferioir.
He owned his flat and earned very good money – double what my salary was. He always wanted to go to nice places and I wasn’t in a position to always do that – he never understood why I didn’t feel comfortable with him paying for everything all the time.
It was nice to be treated occasionally but he almost always took offence when I mentioned that I’d prefer to just stay in and cook than go to a fancy restaurant.
He took a LOT of care over his appearance. He was always at the gym, would spend longer getting ready than me, and he cared about the labels in his clothes. Definitely never shopped in Primark.
One thing I had noticed about him, that I had hoped would change with time, was that he didn’t really like spending time with my friends or family. He would often make excuses or if he did attend, he would be so shy and reserved. I struggled with this a lot, but once again when I bought it up, it would cause an arguement and I just hoped that it would change over time. Every time we did see them, alcohol would be a major factor for him. He would never not drink. I didn’t really think much of it at the time, I just assumed it helped with his nerves because he wasn’t good socially.
The sex with him, looking back now, was below average. He wasn’t a particularly good lover and whenever I tried to spice things up, he wouldn’t be interested.
One thing that caused me a lot of damage was the fact that when it came to oral sex, he would never do it, and he would never let me do it to him. I tried, and I mean I TRIED.
He pushed me off every single time, Even when I tried different techniques etc. And yep, you guessed it, whenever I broached the subject, he got VERY touchy. More so than with any other issue I tried to raise with him.
I developed a huge insecurity about it, and because he wouldn’t speak to me about it, I assumed that it was me that was the problem. There was one time he pushed me off so roughly, I nearly fell off of the bed.
I grew used to the fact, that this was how our sex life was and that it was normal for some people not to enjoy certain things.
For my birthday in 2013, we had been to London for the night. When we got back to his, things were heating up and he mentioned that he really wanted to try anal sex. I had not gone any further than a bit of rimming before so this was new for me. I agreed to try and before I knew it, a bottle of lube had appeared.
He was very over eager and it took a while to find the right rhythm without it being painful for me.
I had genuinely never know him to cum so quickly. It was over in seconds.
After that, I think, until we broke up, we had ‘regular’ sex maybe 3 or 4 times. It was 99% of the time, always anal.
I think I just accepted it in the end. He seemed to love it and I didn’t totally hate it, but I was finidng that it was me pleasuring myself more often than not most of the time.
In 2013, my sister got married. He had been invited on my brother in law’s stag and had reluctantly gone.
The morning of the wedding he made up some excuse about forgetting his suit and had to rush home to collect it. He was gone hours.
Eventually he appeared and I was so mad at him as he was meant to be supporting my BIL on the morning of his wedding.
I remember walking down the aisle before my sister and seeing him – he just looked at me and I felt nothing. I felt so pretty on that day and he didn’t say a damn thing. He knew I was nervous about my speech but he never once comforted me or cheered me on. He just sat there and looked vacant.
After the speeches and the meal, I noticed that he was VERY drunk. More drunk than I had ever seen him.
My family and friends were at the wedding and he was making an absolute arse out of himself. I took him outside with my mum for some air and she told him he needed to sober up. He was rude to both of us, especially me and she took me inside, away from him.
This was my sisters wedding day – what the hell was he playing at?
He eventually staggered into the reception room and came over to me. I told him I didn’t want to speak to him because of how drunk he was and his response?
“Don’t you tell me how drunk I am. I’ll drink whatever I like, so fuck off”.
My mum went crazy. She told him to go away and leave us alone. My sister was so worried about me bless her – I felt AWFUL.
I stayed until the end and he was nowhere to be seen. I went up to bed and settled to sleep – I was worried about where he was because of the state he was in but he had behaved so badly so I went to sleep.
I was woken up by a banging on the door around 4am. He was yelling in the corridor and I got up to let him in as I didn’t want him waking the rest of the hotel up.
He had been crying. he sat down with his head in his hands and said he was sorry for how he had behaved. I said that he had humiliated me in front of my family and friends and that he had been incredibly rude to my mum. He just kept saying sorry. Kept saying he didn’t know why he had behaved like that. When I told him it was because of how much he had to drink, he threw back to me that it was my fault he got drunk – for putting him into a situation that he wasn’t comfy with and he hardly knew anyone. That I should’ve known better. He slept in the chair that night.
The morning after the wedding, I told him that I needed some time away from him because of his behaviour. In the cold light of day, he was a different person. He packed his stuff and he drove home. For about a month, we barely spoke. We had a holiday booked for the August and it had been super expensive as was an adults only all inclusive resort.
I told him that I was prepared to go on holiday and see if we could patch things up. He had apologised so many times and promised to curb his drinking.
We boarded the plane, trying to put the past behind us and little did I know, what I had witnessed at the wedding was just the tip of the iceberg…….