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The gut-wrenching postings on Facebook about Valentine’s celebrations have begun. Every time I see someone posting photos of their gorgeous bouquet of roses or champagne toasts,  or read about their professions of love for their beloved, I feel my skin prickle and my stomach drop.

Valentine’s Day sucks when you’re single. It sucks even more when you’re recovering from heartbreak.

I stood in Target today buying Valentines for my Valentines – my kids – and was overwhelmed with emotion for what could have been with Hayden. It hurt. I should have also been buying a trinket of my love for him. The hearts, the chocolates & candies, the coffee mugs filled with candy hearts, the wine bottles with red labels… it was all a big fat reminder of what I’d lost.

It has been a quiet, lonely weekend. The Blond Mandarin had to cancel tonight’s plans because he’s sick. I had two other first date invitations and even though I’m interested in both prospects, I just wasn’t feeling up to rousing myself.

I am fickle. I’d like some company but I don’t want to make the effort to go out.

I had dinner with Mars and our daughter earlier – that was nice. Otherwise, I spent time at the track and running errands. I don’t mind the alone time… but I do feel like I need to take advantage of my kid-free weekends and feel guilty when I don’t. Craving the downtime while also simultaneously craving the excitement of a new potential love interest is a constant internal battle.

I’m currently doubting the science teacher from England is going to follow through on our date tomorrow afternoon. I sent him a text this afternoon telling him that I hoped his weekend was going well. No response. Eh. I’ll be disappointed but it will only convince me he’s simply looking for a hook-up. I am not.

I’ve had plenty of time this weekend to think about Hayden. I’m still processing. When thinking more about why he didn’t call me on Thursday night when he said he would, which is unlike him, it occurred to me that he may be a high-functioning alcoholic. I even did research on Google. I wonder if he’s spiraling out of control.

When I mentioned this to both Jill and Tanya, they told me to leave him to it. I had offered an ear and a shoulder and he pushed me away. Alcohol is the only thing that explains his behavior. And blaming alcohol hurts less than the alternatives, like he just didn’t care or he’s interested in someone else. But, knowing him, the alternatives don’t make sense. Knowing his past struggle with alcohol and knowing he still drinks, sometimes a lot, point to alcoholism. I have never known anyone with a history of alcohol abuse to tolerate drinking even a small amount of alcohol.

I thought back to our conversation from Monday night, when he was telling me about how he became homeless. He had said, “I have the drinking under control now. I go to work every day, pay my bills, and keep my place clean” and when I told him I understood, that sometimes feeling numb feels good, he said “It feels really good, even more so for me.”

I also thought back to late December, when I told him I’d like to drink less because I could tell my tolerance was increasing, he had said, “I’d like to do that, too. It’s healthier.”

I reduced my consumption. He didn’t.

I thought back to how much he drank when we first started dating and it was noticeably less. In August and September he drank maybe 3 beers or a half-bottle of wine whenever we saw each other. More recently he was drinking a half-bottle of vodka.

Speaking of alcohol, I have decided that I’m going to take a break from it for a while. I had a single beer last night – it messed me up. I felt tipsy and didn’t sleep well as a result. One fucking beer! That sucks.

I fear I’m becoming intolerant to all alcohol. First  it was red wine… now it’s beer. *sob*