During one of my several pre-dawn wake-ups, I latched on to the idea of addiction as the through-line for a blog post. Though what I might have meant instead of addiction was either gluttony or consistency, and what I was really thinking about was how my relationship with my local pub, in some respects, mirrors other relationships that I’ve had. I woke excited to write. The declarative statement that formed in my half-asleep brain was, “I’ve never really thought of myself as being the type of person with an addictive personality.”
With the coffee brewing, I sat down at the computer. I stalled out almost immediately. When I stall out on an idea, I look at the news, I open the dating apps, I check the notifications on my phone, I get up and walk around. I could sense the idea slipping away from me. Maybe it’s not that rich of an idea to begin with. I grew frustrated with myself over how quickly I was willing to abandon the hard work of concentration as soon as I hit a road block. I grew frustrated with how quickly I pick up the phone when my mind is blank. Looking out the window, a few lingering storm clouds mixed with sunlight creating a dramatic morning sky: yellow bruise, patches of blue, smokey grays. I walked away from computer to get dressed and go outside. I opened the blinds in the bedroom and admonished myself: no. The little kid in me whined that he wanted to go out. The adult said something about practice and discipline. At least until I finish my first cup of coffee.
Maybe it’s a poem. Maybe it’s a break-up letter with the pub. I love you but we can’t keep seeing each other like this. I want to see other pubs? I enjoy our time together, but I feel it’s holding me back? I need more than you can give me?
But do I?
At the pub, I feel comfortable and safe. At the pub I do a better job of ignoring my phone. At the pub I get to meet new people and see people I know. While I avoid “hook-ups,” most of the physical connections I’ve had have been with women I’ve met at the pub. I get a sense of consistency and routine when I go there. After a day of semi-isolation and work in my apartment, I get the chance to have social interactions. It is, or can be, a little like coming home to your family. I enjoy myself when I’m there, and as a result, I find myself going there more often – which isn’t terribly different from the times I’ve dated people and wanted to spend the majority of my time with them.
I went for that walk. Glorious out. Bright, blue, and brisk. The Bay, the bridge. I grabbed a danish on my way home. Second cup of coffee.
When I was a child, I once got sick from eating too many plums. It was a ridiculous number of plums – double digits in a single day. Last night, I might have been stirred awake with the thought of addiction, but it’s moderation that I struggle with – and apparently always have. I struggle to moderate my screen time. I struggle to moderate how often and how late I stay out. If I stay out late, I invariably struggle to moderate the number of beers I might consume. In the past, I’ve struggled to moderate my desire to spend time with partners. With all of these things, I stop short of being obsessed, but when I find something that’s pleasurable and easy, I settle in. Scrolling on my phone is easy. Going to the pub is easy. Coming home to a partner was easy. Sticking with the same evening walks, going to the same restaurants, eating waffles every morning – all easy because they don’t require any thinking. Staying home and writing or painting, or going out somewhere new all require thinking and making choices – taking minor risks on the unknown. Maybe I’m just lazy.
While talking with a friend over lunch, he was asking if I think my pub life will conflict with trying to build some sort of romantic life. More specifically, he wanted to know if I’d stop going out if I met someone or if I would try to meet someone who wants to go out to the pub as much as I do. I said, I think it’s an “and” statement. I’m certain by having a more attractive option, I’d go out less, but ideally, it would be nice if they wanted to go out too. Maybe they have a better pub? Moreover, I said, I’d like someone who can make suggestions or add different routines. He asked if any couples come out to the bar. I said a few (though I could only think of one or two). What I could better remember was a bar in Philly that a girlfriend and I went to once a week. I could also remember a bar in Bucks County where a few different girlfriends and I would go on a semi-regular basis. And several couples who went to the bar on Friday nights in State College – though that was more of a restaurant.
Addiction wasn’t the right word, but at 4am it’s what was floating around in my head all golden and sudsy. I may not have an addictive personality, but I do have one that revels and overindulges in comfort and routine when I find it. My challenge, because the brain responds to repetition more than it delineates good vs. bad activities, is to practice moderation: fewer and earlier nights at the pub and fewer drinks when I’m there, putting the phone down (or in the other room) when I’m trying to concentrate, being more deliberate about where I allow my attention to flow, sitting through the uncomfortable silences when I’m trying to read or write, becoming a glutton of better or more interesting things, building habits that reward and embrace novelty… and dammit putting the phone away (uggh it’s such an automatic response when I don’t know what comes next).