[Continued from "Alcohol (Part 9)."]

By the time law school was over, I had developed quite an alcohol tolerance.  I had also spent plenty of mornings feeling shitty due to the overindulgences of the nights before.  When it came time for me to study for the California Bar Exam, however, I made an executive decision:  I would not drink, at all.

I decided that if I didn’t pass the Bar I wanted to know that it was because I wasn’t smart enough, or didn’t study enough, or something else, just not because I was too hung over.  Or too drunk.  I didn’t want to be able to blame alcohol or anything else but myself for not passing the Bar.

So for about three months I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol.  Instead, I went to Bar review courses.  And studied.  And stayed home alone.  Somewhat ironic that I stopped drinking for the sake of a bar.

I stayed home alone despite the fact that I was at that time a married woman.  While my then-husband and I didn’t live together for a few months just before and after our wedding ceremony, by the time I finished law school we were living together in a 425-square-foot one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco’s Tenderloin, and had been for a couple of years.  Of course, it is natural for a married couple to live together.

And it may be somewhat unnatural for a married couple to agree to socialize separately.  I had announced to the Ex that I wouldn’t be drinking for the summer and that he was welcomed – encouraged even – to go out without me.  After all, there was no reason for him to suffer because I had to study for three months.

By that time the Ex had finally made some friends.  Actually, he had made one friend, and through him and his friends, made some other friends.  The one friend was thanks to me.  The one friend I had introduced to the Ex.  The one friend I had known longer than I knew the Ex.  Coincidentally, I met them both at the same place, the bar where I worked, Q’s.  It was a complete coincidence also, that we all lived in San Francisco.

They hit it off immediately, which was good, because the Ex hadn’t been doing well making friends on his own and didn’t like my law school buddies all that much (and to be truthful, some of them were pretentious asses).  So when I didn’t go out, the Ex had plenty of company to go out every weekend.

On weekend nights I also relaxed, but not by going out drinking, or even staying in drinking.  On weekend nights I gave myself permission to give my brain a rest; I watched television.  I watched whatever I wanted; it was nice not to have to consider what the Ex wanted to see.  I just vegged out.

Thinking back, that period – when I hung out alone and the Ex went out and did his own thing – may have given us both an idea that we liked being apart more than together.

I took the Bar Exam, which was three days of testing hell.  After the third day, a bunch of people went out drinking in downtown Oakland, which is where the exam was held.  I went with them, but once in the bar I didn’t feel like drinking.

It was a strange feeling.  I had told myself I could drink as much as I wanted after the test was over and yet I didn’t want to.

Of course I began drinking again eventually … (to be continued.)

I swear.  True story.

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