The Shattered Prayer

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The other night Mojo and I went out to celebrate a friend’s birthday and while there I was talking to a woman who is a publisher for a local magazine. Our birthday friend was a personal trainer and conversation shifted to working out. In the course of the conversation shift, she told me she used to go to Overeaters Anonymous and it changed her life. That made me think about the one time I ever went to one of these “____ Anonymous” Groups. I didn’t have the same reaction as publisher woman.

It happened when I was living in Atlanta. My friend Kether and I were bored and trying to figure something to do that night. I was between boyfriends and she was during an off-again moment with her on-again, off-again longterm girlfriend. Naturally we started bitching about our love lives and the many reasons why it was always the fault of the other person whenever we had relationship problems. Kether summed up our conversation by saying “You know, we date people who just can’t handle our love.” I said, “Their loss. Let’s find someone who can!”

A challenge had been issued so we quickly started looking through the gay guides for Atlanta to see if there were a place where people whose love was too much to handle could kill a Friday night. Naturally, there was no such group. Kether saved the day, however when she noticed an ad for the Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Co-dependents Anonymous Group, or CoDA, as they called it. “For people who are too sensitive to other people’s needs.” Perfect! That was us, selfless, giving, overly loving people. The group would show us how not to care for the other person in the relationship and therefore make us better dating partners.

Or at the very least we get dates with people who would only care about our emotional needs at the expense of theirs. It was a win-win situation!

When we arrived, we immediately started checking people out. Everyone was our age, early 20s. Kether quickly pointed out a woman with huge tits and said she was going to sit by her. I sat in between the two most attractive guys there. One was unbelievably beautiful, almost delicate in his features. The other was a dark Italian guy who looked like he wanted to have sex right then and there. With me, with beautiful boy, with Kether, with big-tits. Even with the humourless woman who was running the group. There were some other, less attractive people there as well. Dark Italian Guy looked like he’d fuck them too. I admired his dedication to his ultimate goal.

We were surprised to discover that we were like mini-celebrities. Everyone else had been going to CoDA for a while — I guess the group wasn’t really helping them that much, or maybe they were just all caught up in the emotional needs of the group members. We were new. We were potentially exciting. They wanted to know who we were and why we were there. So we poured it on. We couldn’t keep relationships because we came on too strong, always giving ourselves over to the other person, always wanting to know how we could make it better for them. None of this was, strictly speaking, true, but we felt that we had to give our audience what they wanted.

Then they told us the rules.

Number 1. No dating anyone in the group. Kether and I quickly looked at each other and mentally tried to figure out if we could easily sneak out. We’d only come here for dates and they were nixing that straight away.

Number 2. We had to give ourselves over to a higher power to help us with our co-dependence. I asked the group leader wasn’t that exactly what we were trying to avoid. She told me it wasn’t co-dependent if it was for the Lord. I dutifully wrote that down on my little note-pad.

Number 3. You had to give everyone an emotional space to talk about what was bothering them. No making fun, no cutting remarks. No sarcasm.

Kether and I knew as soon as we got out of this, we’d never be coming back.

After the rules, it was sharing time. Everyone could tell the group about the problems they were having. Beautiful boy started out.

Never before or since have I heard someone with more problems. I actually began to get uncomfortable as he poured out problem after problem after problem. As his emotionally draining litany droned on and on he literally began to shake and his voice gave out and he collapsed on the floor in a heap. Wailing and crying. We all just sat there looking at him. I mean, the group was supposed to make you not be overly sensitive to other people’s needs. Would it violate group etiquette to help him off the floor? Feeling someone should do something, I patted him on the shoulder and said, “There, there.” He got back up in his chair and cried silently for the rest of the meeting.

Humourless woman then smiled, “Allrighty then! Who’s next?”

For an hour and a half, Kether and I listened to an endless stream of people with more problems than they could possibly have amassed in such brief lives. Finally the meeting was over.

Kether and I were the first ones out the door. We practically sprinted out of there. Big Tits and Dark Italian Guy were right behind us. Neither had said a word in the meeting. When we got the parking lot, the four of us watched as beautiful boy was carted away in a nearly catatonic state. Dark Italian sighed, “Goddamn drama queen. He does that every fucking week.” Kether took a long drag on her cigarette and told them, “No offense, but you people are fucked up.” Big Tits said, “Look sister, I’m just here to get laid.” Dark Italian Guy said, “Me too.”

I’ll let you guess how the night ended.

But sure enough, Kether and I never went back again.

I mean, those people were fucked up!

Buy me a beer!

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