FURIOUS at myself
I was 8 weeks in. No drugs, no booze. No longer.
Last night BF called, asked if I wanted to go visit him. Well... like, of course. Drove there (3 hours away), and he thought it might be fun to go to a bar he likes. No problem. I've done the bar thing sober and it's worked pretty well. So we hoped in the car. Neither of us were going to drink, just go have some fun. We danced a little and he ran into an old wrestling buddy. The wrestling buddy bought us beers before asking what we were drinking, and for some ungodly reason we drank them. That became about 12 each.
BF and I have the same problem. We don't really want meth until we're hammered. And the wrestling buddy had dope. So we did lines, dropped off the wrestling buddy, and drove off. Two blocks later... *POLICE LIGHTS* Sure enough, the wrestling buddy's house was a known meth house, and since we'd just driven away the cops decided to pull us over. BF swallowed the baggie, we were questioned, cuffed, patted down, my car was searched, and eventually they let us go (likely because the cop knows BF's dad and he didn't have any solid proof cuz BF had swallowed the drugs anyway). So, there we were high, drunk, and a hair's breadth from going to jail (thank Whoever that the wrestling buddy hadn't dropped any in the car).
I realize I am completely to blame (well... BF for his part, as well. Shared blame). And I am furious at myself. I am so mad that I brought this on myself. It makes me sick.
Obviously, I can't handle bars. So I won't be going to them anymore. It worked well for a while to hang out with friends at bars and be the DD, but not at that risk. BF's pretty sick about the whole thing, too. I came home early so we can have some alone time away from each other to get it back together and back on track.
I hate myself at this moment.