What Do I Know, Anyway?

Last night a guy that I like a lot pulled me aside after the meeting, and asked my opinion about a woman in The Program that I also like a lot. The woman, not The Program, although I like The Program a lot, too. He had gone out on a date with this woman -- both are single and not in the newcomer category, as if either of those facts would justify me telling anyone what to do -- and wondered what I thought about her.

"I value your opinion," he said, totally charming me. I'll give up the keys to the vault to anyone who flatters me, even if it's the empty words of an evil manipulator. Flattery is a hot commodity. I'll take it.

"You seem to be successful in your relationships," he added. No one cares how long I've been sober but a lot of people are mightily impressed that I've been married for 20 years. I'M mightily impressed. I can only assume that SuperK is, too, although dismay may better characterize her emotions.

I had to take a minute to gather myself. I'm very, very careful to make sure that I don't gossip about somebody, especially not in The Program. My conversations with other alcoholics are protected by a code of ethics more stringent than the doctor-patient or lawyer-client relationship. I share anecdotes and the like only if I'm sure the other person would approve, and I err on the side of prudence.

To further complicate matters, I can only hypothesize about personal relationships. Sometimes I stare in disbelief when they work out and sometimes I'm stunned when they don't. I remember the advice I was getting when SuperK and I were dating; I had met her at her second meeting when I had a whole 8 months of sobriety. People weren't urging us forward. I think as a general rule we can agree that the odds are long on two wet-behind-the-ears drunks making it work, but obviously they're not impossible.

"I don't think she's going to pull a knife on you, " I offered.