I often find myself in a situation where people are drinking alcohol.
A football tailgate. A backyard cookout. A dinner party. Brunch. Hanging out in a bar.
At these gatherings, I’m often offered alcohol or someone offers to buy me a drink, and I almost always decline. When pressed or offered an alternative alcoholic beverage, I say, “No, I don’t really drink alcohol anymore.” Then I quickly add, “I’d have some champagne if we were celebrating something, but otherwise, I don’t really drink anymore.”
I add the comment about champagne because if I don’t, I’ll oftentimes receive a comment like, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know” or “Would it be easier if I didn’t drink right now, too?”
Sometimes it’s just a look in their eyes that says essentially says the same thing.
It’s a lovely sentiment. Assuming I’m in recovery, these folks are offering their support, but the truth is that I don’t have a drinking problem. I just don’t enjoy the taste of alcohol as much as other beverages and never find myself in need of what alcohol has to offer:
- I never feel the need to relax more than I already am.
- My inhibitions are already frighteningly low.
- I never feel out of place drinking Diet Coke as my friends are getting plastered.
I’m not judging any of these reasons to drink. There are lots of very good reasons to imbibe alcohol. Some people genuinely love the taste. Others find a glass of wine or beer relaxing. Drink enough and your inhibitions are definitely lowered, which can be useful in some social situations. And sometimes drinking a beer with your friends makes you feel like part of the community.
All good things.
I just don’t require any of them.
There was a time when I drank a lot. In fact, I used to routinely drink my friends under the table and never once suffered from a hangover of any kind. When I was much younger, I would stupidly compete with friends over who could drink more during a given night or over the course of a wedding, and only once did I lose one of these battles.
During that particular battle, fought during the course of a wedding and the after party, I drank 22 kamikaze shots. My friend also drank 22 shots but then topped it off with two glasses of Jägermeister at the end of the night, thus defeating me.
I had cut off by the bartender after falling down several times, so I was unable to continue.
That night, however, slept like a baby while my friend spent the entire night in the bathroom with this then-wife, so perhaps it wasn’t a loss after all.
In truth, we were probably both losers that night. Drinking that much alcohol is dangerous and stupid.
Still, no hangover. I felt great the next day.
One of my friends once told me that when I stopped drinking, it was like Superman giving up his powers.
Sad but true. But if given the choice, I simply prefer water, Diet Coke, orange juice, apple juice, lemonade, seltzer, or root beer.
I’ve never even tasted coffee.
But I always toss in my willingness to drink champagne as part of a toast when decline an offer of alcohol in order to avoid explaining the bewildered host that I don’t drink just because I prefer other beverages and am not battling addiction.
It’s when everyone at the table is eating salad and I’m just sitting there, staring at everyone like they are rabbits, perfectly content on nibbling on a roll, and someone says, “How can you not like salad?” when I am truly at a loss for words.
