In order to look cute in size 2 jeans, prevent diabetes, and maintain a healthy after-work social life, I get up at 5 am every morning to work out. I don't have one of those jobs that you can mindlessly fumble through without killing another human, so I make it a point to get enough sleep to make basic math calculations the next day. But the guy I'm dating now has been unemployed for a few weeks, and we are clearly on different sleep schedules.
We met up last week around 9, and I warned him I was fading fast. By 10 I was ready to go to sleep. We could hear the rain pounding outside, so I invited him to stay the night and avoid walking home two miles in a downpour. I wasn't going to be much company, but he was free to use my computer, read my books, and raid the refrigerator.
For the next several hours, I could hear him milling about my apartment. He woke me up at one point to ask if he could have some wine and at another point to cuddle with me in bed. I drifted in and out of slumber, awake enough to be irritated but too exhausted to tell him to stop. At some late hour, he finally fell asleep. I was so relieved.
The alarm seemed to go off all too soon and blurry-eyed, I stumbled into the bathroom. Right away, I knew something was off. My cabinet was flung open, feminine hygiene products littering the floor and pill bottles disturbed. A bottle of Benadryl was open with the cap lying in the sink. I was baffled. Why would the guy I'm dating go through my pills, take a sleeping aid, and then leave an obvious trail of evidence? And furthermore, why did he not go for the Ambien?
I found my answer when I went into the kitchen and saw a 24 ounce bottle of beer and another bottle of wine standing empty on my counter. As I was fast asleep, he was trying to get there himself. Alcohol and raiding pills were involved, and he was too drunk to worry about capping the bottle or closing the cabinet door.
I instinctively took the Ambien out of the cabinet and hid it in a drawer in my clothes closet. I'm not the smartest dater in the world, but when I find myself hiding prescription medication from men who are spending the night, I recognize a big red flag.
We met up last week around 9, and I warned him I was fading fast. By 10 I was ready to go to sleep. We could hear the rain pounding outside, so I invited him to stay the night and avoid walking home two miles in a downpour. I wasn't going to be much company, but he was free to use my computer, read my books, and raid the refrigerator.
For the next several hours, I could hear him milling about my apartment. He woke me up at one point to ask if he could have some wine and at another point to cuddle with me in bed. I drifted in and out of slumber, awake enough to be irritated but too exhausted to tell him to stop. At some late hour, he finally fell asleep. I was so relieved.
The alarm seemed to go off all too soon and blurry-eyed, I stumbled into the bathroom. Right away, I knew something was off. My cabinet was flung open, feminine hygiene products littering the floor and pill bottles disturbed. A bottle of Benadryl was open with the cap lying in the sink. I was baffled. Why would the guy I'm dating go through my pills, take a sleeping aid, and then leave an obvious trail of evidence? And furthermore, why did he not go for the Ambien?
I found my answer when I went into the kitchen and saw a 24 ounce bottle of beer and another bottle of wine standing empty on my counter. As I was fast asleep, he was trying to get there himself. Alcohol and raiding pills were involved, and he was too drunk to worry about capping the bottle or closing the cabinet door.
I instinctively took the Ambien out of the cabinet and hid it in a drawer in my clothes closet. I'm not the smartest dater in the world, but when I find myself hiding prescription medication from men who are spending the night, I recognize a big red flag.
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