ESSAY/OPINION/AL-ANON SHARE –
March 27, 2021 – My brilliant and weirdly eccentric father, who I thought was the most interesting man in the world, indulged in a combo of pills and alcohol.
Even as a teenager, I wasn’t attracted to the boys who turned their homework in on time and were on track with post-high school scholarships and a career path lined up. I was drawn to the brooding, artistic boys with plenty of attitude and a love of partying. I had to drive my senior prom date home because he got drunk on the giant Tequila Sunrise he’d made for the night.
When I was in my 20s my boyfriend was a professional drummer. And a sex addict. He toured every summer and — surprise, surprise — cheated on me constantly. I work in the entertainment industry, so I am surrounded by some of the most creative people in the world. And that turns me on. The problem is that a lot of these really cool, tortured, brilliant artist types have something else going on that fuels, or dulls, all that passion and pain: addiction.
