How are you getting on with the “dry” January? If you are invested in this month-long abstinence jag, I hope it’s going well. If not, continue to enjoy those pints or cocktails or cans or carafes – no judgment here. Well, not that much. Maybe the smallest, teeniest measure.
Since my life went fully “dry” two years ago, I’ve developed some strong opinions about the widespread reliance on the drug of alcohol for a Good Time. I write this as someone who spent decades believing all the Good Times were booze-dependent, only to quit and realise this notion was a scam and a lie. Alcohol, our most dangerous and damaging drug problem, has come to seem more malevolent to me since I gave it up for good.
It’s wise though, if you don’t want to become known as a puritan pariah, to keep these kinds of opinions to yourself. (Oops.) Sometimes I meet other Sober Siobháns and Abstinent Arthurs and we get into enthusiastic conversations during which we agree with each other about all the ways our lives are better without alcohol. There is a secret subtext to these whispered chats, and it’s that deep down we wish everyone would join us. We can’t help it. We’re like the global hive mind in Apple TV’s Pluribus: we’ve tasted a better way to exist on this planet and we just wish everyone else could have a triple shot of it.
In Pluribus, Carol Sturka, played by Rhea Seehorn, is one of a handful of people immune to a virus which has made everyone else sing from the same hymn sheet about pretty much everything. The rest of the world are killed trying to convince Carol that this new way of life is better. “Carol, once you understand how wonderful this is …” they tell her, but Carol is having none of it. “We love you Carol,” they say. “You have to understand how beautiful it is, Carol.” You could, if you weren’t careful, become preachy about the alcohol-free life. (Oops. Again.) Non-drinkers are keenly aware that in saying these things out loud we come across as insufferable weirdos who would not be welcome at most parties. We’re sober, not completely brain-dead.
Regarding “dry” January, I’m not mad about the “dry” bit. The word is giving boring. Dull. Also, it is just factually incorrect. Us soberati are still in need of liquid refreshments. Lately, I’ve been exploring alternative beverage options and the recent December-based festivities were a fruitful hunting ground.
At a friend’s annual Christmas party, the host offered me a zero gin and tonic. “Oooh,” I thought to myself. “Yes!” But then I had a little think and asked her for a taste of hers. When I took a sip I realised that the fake gin and tonic tasted EXACTLY like the real thing. And seeing as I gave up alcohol so that I would stop using it to numb myself to life’s inevitable uncomfortable feelings, I suddenly realised I didn’t want a drink that danced on my palate like an actual gin and tonic. I went back to my old reliable Italian soft drinks that come in an endless array of delectable flavours: peach and clementine, pomegranate and blackcurrant, blood orange.
I’ve since sworn off Nosecco and all the rest of the drinks pretending to be something I don’t want in my life any more. When Dunnes Stores has its own brand of kombucha and there’s a delightful new cordial around called Paragon, we non-drinkers are spoilt for choice like never before.
At the same party, I got into another one of those whispered chats with a fellow non-drinker about the faux alcoholic gins and vodkas and beers which mysteriously cost the same as the alcoholic versions. He is violently against them for many reasons, one being that the zero-alcohol options are now used to advertise sporting events – a fiendishly clever way for Big Alcohol to appear virtuous while still peddling their main alcohol brands. He is against them on general principle, though: “Imagine people snorting fake cocaine,” he said. (This would be called nocaine, obviously, if anybody wants to get in on the ground floor of this rubbish business idea.) Much like a zero gin and tonic, what would be the point?
Honestly, life is so much better without alcohol – fake or otherwise, Carol. There are the obvious perks: No hangovers. Better sleep. Reduced anxiety. I am a more joyful and more productive person sober, although my ability to enjoy doing absolutely nothing has also been enhanced. I am also a more present parent and a more reliable partner.
It’s not all pomegranates and hangover-free mornings though. One friend complained recently that by giving up the sauce I’ve pretty much eliminated our social life together. Still, we’ll always have the memories. I’m told there’s a framed copy of an article I wrote once about day drinking with him in The Royal Oak pub, which will be something to show the grandchildren.
We’re not “dry”, but we’re not paragons either. And at the risk of sounding like a cult member, why not come join us in the drug-free life? We just want to help, Carol – and honestly, once you understand how wonderful this sober life is … Carol? Carol! Hello? Where’ve you gone, Carol?