Bad Lola, Good Lola

Last night my friend "E" told me to pray and exercise. I did.
Last night I quietly asked whatever it is I pray to for help and guidance.
Today I rolled out of bed at 1 p.m. and went and got a gym membership. Luckily, the gym I chose is right next to Starbucks. Maybe that was the guidance.
I went to Starbucks, moped, then worked out for about an hour. All the while scanning the gym out of the corner of my eye for a cute guy, or should I say, my next diversion. Bad, Lola, bad.
I know I need a man right now about as much as a fish needs a bicycle, but I can't help it. I want someone! Someone cute! Someone to fill the void! Someone to make me happy, then miserable, as is my new pattern. Bad, Lola, bad.
Luckily, the handful of men at the gym, working out and minding their own business, were all too 'something' (hairy, young, old, normal, stable-looking, etc...) for me.
So my gym-venture turned out to be exactly what it should be: a workout.
After, I went back to Starbucks.
I didn't know it at the time, but that was a pivotal move.
A group of people walked in. A loud group. One woman had a mohawk. Another a sleeved-tattooed arm. Then I heard the tattooed woman talk. Loudly.
I know that voice.
She saw me and came over and gave me a hug. "How have you been?" she said.
It was Jane. She had to tell me her name again. I met her about eight months ago at an AA meeting on the west side of the city, where I was now (I live on the east side). That October night, new in town, new to this city's drunks, I was a bit out of my comfort zone. I wanted my familiar California drunks. The ones that helped me get sober.
Anyhoo, that night they invited me out to eat after the meeting and I went. They were a fun bunch. The usual cross-section of society that would never hang together unless they they met in the rooms of AA. I liked them, but I never went back to that meeting (can't remember where it was or what night it was).
A few weeks ago when the the U.S.S. Foreboding started it's descent, I looked in my phone to see if I had any of their numbers. But I couldn't remember any of their names.
Here they were at Starbucks, getting ready to go to a meeting. As AAers do, they invited me along. My prayer was answered.
During that meeting I started to see how I was slipping away from the foundation that got me to this great part in my life. Listening to the speaker talk about how, at five years sober, thought she had it all down and went back to the bottle, and complete and utter despair. I heard my future.
Looking at Jane, and Erica and the group of women that had welcomed my once, then twice, to join their company, I realized this is where I need to be.
I don't need men right now. I need women, women to talk to that have my same struggles, to be my friends, to laugh with. Good Lola, good.
After, four of us women went to a diner and talked and laughed. No war stories, but talk about the wacky stuff we do and feel as recovering addicts and alcoholics. They too, have great lives, bad impulses and twisted emotional rides.
While the fog is still here, rays of light are stating to shine through. Tonight I will pray again. Tomorrow I will exercise again, and in the evening I will go to another meeting with them.
Tonight I don't feel alone.