Yes, it all fits. He is spending time away from both his family and his work during evenings, and when she learns that these meetings are mostly attended by lonely women, there is this gigantic "aha."

If there are no men-only meetings in the area, then a desperate Al-Anon man is forced to attend meetings made up mostly of women.

Somewhere deep inside she knows that neither she nor her husband have been capable of providing either the emotional or physical intimacy that they had before the disease progressed. He must be getting that elsewhere.

I remember one of those early-in-my-recovery Friday night meetings that ended in one of the worst battles we ever had over "my program."

After the meeting there was a tradition that those who didn't want the meeting to end would drive across the freeway to a Denny's for coffee. I had never attended one of these social meetings, but on this particular night I was invited.

I remember standing right outside the door of the meeting room in the parking lot talking to a small group of ladies the moment I was invited to join them. I gladly accepted, much preferring to continue interacting with healthy sober people...women or not, to what I knew by 9:15 would be a wife with four or five hours of cheap wine under her belt.

Unfortunately, the ladies all piled into their cars and left me alone with this newcomer. This lady proceeded to tell me that her alcoholic husband was not only violent, but insanely jealous! I remember imagining him sitting in the darkness across the street looking through a high-powered rife scope sight at the area just between my shoulder blades.

I still had those serious doubts about my masculinity that every male Al-Anon has in the early days of recovery, and I was wondering to myself what James Bond would do in this situation?  I decided that James Bond would calmly invite the newcomer to ride with him to Denny's. So that is exactly what I did.

But the eyes that I felt between my shoulder blades were not those of a jealous husband. They were those of two women. One was my wife, the other our neighbor, Evelyn Meyer, whom Deb had asked for a ride to the hospital. She had told Evelyn the whole sad tale. She suspected that her husband was having an affair with another woman, and that they had been meeting on Friday nights at a nearby hospital.

To make matters worse, I remember the newcomer doing some crying.

When I finally came home that night I walked in the front door to the words "...I SAW YOU! I SAW YOU drive away with that woman, and Evelyn is my witness! This went on, again, deep into the night. I remember thinking myself really clever at one point when I told her "...yes, yes, I am in love with that woman. I'm in love with her and with every other woman in there!

I'm in love with Betty, and Mary, and Gladys, and Pat. I love them all!

This "affair," which almost every alcoholic wife imagines, allows her to shift the shame from her disease to her husband. Tragically, sometimes what she suspects is true, but often, as it was in this situation, her accusations are just another flavor of her bluster. The most tragic outcome happens when she manages to threaten and bully him into abandoning his recovery process. That outcome perpetuates the disease in the family and dooms them all to continue downward in their elevator.

If this sounds familiar, call to find a meeting where you can start your own recovery process. Al-Anon people will help at 1-888-4-Al-ANON or check out www.al-anon.alateen.org

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   Eventually there is growth to the point of being able to forgive. The years of resentment bottled up in the hero child have blocked his contact with himself, with others, and, most tragically, with God. This is one key reason why an honest fourth step inventory followed by sharing in the form of a fifth step is so freeing.

   Then there is the daily unconditional love the Al-Anon experiences first hand, year after year, through the program. This creates a security that is deep and permanent. People are fallible, yes, but each has a spirit, and many are genuinely what they appear to be. The early years he spent learning the "system" (i.e., the sick rules imposed by addicted adults and all of the habituations), are eventually trumped by years of mutual respect from sponsors and other men sponsored, as well as from the fellowship as a whole. Life becomes a series of sweet kisses, and the new habituation replaces the old...sweet kisses are never ignored, but they sure as heck are appreciated!

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