When I was 17, I told my first serious bf he had to choose between me and drugs. He chose drugs.
Two weeks ago, I divorced my AH of almost 20 years. I gave him a choice 4 years ago, he told me he would never stop drinking, and then it took me 4 years to follow through. He checked himself into rehab the day after I walked out on him, but by then, it was too late. I was done.
I used to tell people, "it's unfair to only see the alcoholic when he has so many wonderful sides to him. He's not only an alcoholic. It's only part of who he is."
But more and more, there was no other part to him. The alcoholic ate the rest of his personality up. And what kept me in the relationship was partly the memories, the hope that That Wonderful Man I Married would somehow magically return. He never did.
Don't mistake pity for love. Don't mistake feeling needed for being loved. It's got nothing to do with your IQ. Until you've lived with an addict, you might think "I can't believe she's stupid enough to..." but once you've experienced it, you know smart people fall in love with addicts, too. And put themselves through hell.