Dear Drunk Fiancé,

We had plans tonight you and I. We were going to have sex. We even bought condoms for the occasion, because it’s been so long since we had sex we couldn’t remember if we have any left. We flirted and giggled about it all day. You knew; I knew; I’m fairly certain even the dog knew.

Then you found a bottle of wine on special at the supermarket – so you bought three. “Don’t worry,” you said, “only one is for dinner with the family and the other two are for the wine rack.”

So far, the night was safe. But then, glass by glass, bottle by bottle, it washed away. I tried to talk to you about it and now you’ve stormed off outside.

I can’t tell you how I feel through a glass door and a wall of hard feelings, but I have to try because we aren’t supposed to go to bed angry. That sentiment is the cause of all our late night arguments, because I’ll never let it lie until we can rest in each other’s arms and feel nothing but love. So here we go, I hope I’ll see you in bed soon.

Tonight, just like many other nights, I feel as though I’m worth less to you than a cheap bottle of wine. I feel less attractive than a hangover and I feel about as loved as an empty bottle. I don’t know how to fix these feelings. You don’t know how to talk about these feelings because you only see it as criticism. We need to sort it out because our bed is more than just for sleeping: it’s for loving.

You are not just an object, and I don’t just want you here in bed with me to fill my desires. I want to hold you, love you and make us both feel wonderful, because I think we make something amazing together. So I hope you’ll join me here soon, even if we have to argue until the sun rises just so we can make up before it sets again.

The author of this post is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous.

If you think you may have a problem with alcohol, you can call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or log on to Hello Sunday Morning and join their online quit program.

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