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I wish I could say that is was the “gift of desperation” or the rabid desire for a new life that kept me coming back to the rooms when I was new. I am still envious of the young newcomer girls who are pulled aside by other women and warned about the predatory old timers who wait in anticipation for the next wave of fresh meat. I became best friends with another hot newcomer girl and together we went through the 13th step mill, at times sharing some of the same old timers. I was a willing participant, although at 45 days or even four months, you’re so hungry for attention and distraction that you think you can handle things that you’re clearly not able to in retrospect. And, if it wasn’t romance taking me out, it was the lack of romance—the ache of terrible loneliness. Oh, the boys…with their smoky breath and ironic t-shirts and tattooed forearms, waxing philosophical about life and spinning tales of desperation, desecration and finally redemption. I could easily branch off`into horror stories about how I was 13th stepped by program quasi-gurus who had double-digit sobriety while I was just stringing days together.And you’ll often hear sayings, like, “Odds are good that you’ll meet somebody, but the goods are odd.” And I couldn’t agree more. You gonna focus on recovery.”“Well that sounds boring,” I said.When I relapsed for the umpteenth time and ended up with a militant black lesbian for a sponsor, she was very clear that I was not going to fuck my way through the rooms this time around.“Baby, you only going to go to women’s meetings and gay meetings,” she said.“But how am I going to get laid going to women’s meetings and gay meetings? But I had just come out of a psych ward, and had also just cracked my head open when I fell backwards after having a grand mal seizure when my meds were changed, so I was wiling to try it another way.I think I hooked up with five different people within my first four months, and that’s not counting the occasional rendezvous with an old using buddy. Romance took me out of the rooms more times than I’d like to admit. I think dating in the rooms of AA is not unlike hooking up in prison.There is a limited supply of broken people and we recycle each other.And then you have to split up territory: “Okay,” you’ll find yourself saying.
And considering I was all three, there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to turn me out. That’s a sanctity I can’t violate.” None of the men in AA had ever said that.
I would go to those uptight “lady” meetings in Beverly Hills and Brentwood where women with bad facelifts and expensive handbags complain about their gardeners.
I would go to a Saturday women’s meeting in Crenshaw for lesbians.
Amy Dresner is sober comedian who liberally pulls material from her depressive illness and drug addiction.
She performs all over Los Angeles and is also on a national recovery tour called "We Are Not Saints."Alumni have high praise for this this New Jersey program which offers customized treatment plans and holistic care to its college-aged clientele.