After two one-week sober stints (prior to this successful one - 49 days today!) which both went belly up drinking with my boyfriend, I asked him not to drink in the house/in front of me in the infancy of my sobriety. What this request meant to me was that he not quit entirely (he identifies as a drinking alcoholic, but functional, and feels that it is no problem - but that's his story) as I didn't want to impose sobriety, so I imagined he would still drink out at events or stop at a bar now and again with friends after work.
What it meant to him: "OK," he said, "I'll keep my alcohol outside in the truck, and then every time I want a beer I will go drink it out on the lawn and then come back inside..."
That was all I needed to know. I asked him to leave the next day.
Now, mind you, he was a newer boyfriend, and I wasn't so deeply enmeshed that breaking up was inconceivable, but I did love him, and he was the closest thing to a "life partner candidate that I had found in six years". So it wasn't the simplest of decisions.
I miss him often, but do not regret it. I realize that - in seeking a true love - I want someone who cares enough about me to support me wholeheartedly through early recovery. I know that once my sobriety is well-rooted and centered, I could be around alcohol without super-discomfort. On occasion. Not every night in my own home, which is supposed to be sanctuary, the safe place.
I know many, many folks on this site make living with a drinking partner work. I just can't. Or won't. I feel too left out, too different, too lonely, and not supported.
And, really, knowing that he is standing just outside the front door guzzling a beer just makes it sad, but not more comfortable.
Willing to go to any lengths. That was my mantra for weeks after I asked him to move out. Once I had made that choice, I HAD to stay sober, because I gave up Mr. Sweetie for a successful sobriety and would have felt ridiculous if the sobriety still hadn't stuck. So I guess that love affair was a casualty of sobriety. But when I consider how many casualties my alcoholism took, well, there's just no comparison. Especially when the true victim of that war was me. And I am responsible for my own survival. No matter what that takes.