And Now A Word From Our Sponsors...

I'm sitting in my car when the phone rings. "Ring," it  says. 

"NOOOOoooooo...!"

Have I mentioned I hate the phone? I don't consider this Apple iProduct I carry around to be a phone. I think of it as an internet connection device. Which means you can text me, email me, FB me, tweet me, but don't call me. Add me to your permanent Do Not Call list, because I don't want to chat on the phone, not now, not ever, to anyone. That includes you. 

"Riiiinnnnggg," the phone says again. 

Fuck. It's my (making big finger air quotes) "AA sponsor." I don't know this guy, okay, don't want to hear from him. In fact, now I think about it, what exactly is a sponsor anyway? That whole AA sponsor thing has alwys felt kinda creepy to me, like I've been assigned a stalker.  

Just don't.

"Rrrrriiiiinnnnnggggg," the phone says. Look, strange AA-sponsor-guy, you seem like a nice enough person.  It's not you, it's me. No hard feelings, okay, but I'm not going to talk to you right now. Or ever, probably.  

"Riiiinnnngggggggg," says the phone. Christ, can't this fucking thing go to voicemail already? 

"RRRRIIIINNNNGGG." Did I really give him my phone number? What was I thinking. Note to self: Do not give out the phone number. To anyone. Ever.  

The phone stops. 

"Hey," the voicemail says. "I'm just checking in with you. You said you hit 6 months last week, congrats. At 6 months I went kinda wobbly. Anyway, you can call me if you need to talk to someone."

<Click> 

I'd call you back,
but my phone, it's...

Hmmmm, that's odd. No preaching. No demands. No nagging to start my fucking "step work." He sounded kinda tired, actually, like he'd had a long day. I listen to it again and realize: He didn't particularly want to talk to me, either. I find this oddly comforting. It makes me think slightly better of him.  

It occurs to me, sitting there, that there are only about three people in this world who actually give a shit if I ever drink again or not: My spouse; my mom; and, for some reason, this AA sponsor dewd. I have no clue why anyone would want to take on this role -- it's gotta be a thankless job -- but they do it. 

Which is why, even though I pretty much hate the phone, hate the whole forced-friend AA sponsorship thing, and in fact hate the whole AA come-to-jesus altar call, I call him back. 

"Hey," he says, sounding a little surprised to hear back from me,  "Good to hear from you."

"Thanks," I tell him. And then I add a polite little lie. Except that it's kinda not a lie anymore, not really, because I'm surprised to find that I kinda almost mean it when I say: "It's good to hear from you, too."