You guys,
I don’t know how to be social without drinking.
Our friends came over Saturday night. All day, I thought about whether or not I should drink that night. It wasn’t a simple decision. I waffled. I rationalized. I put a lot of thought and energy into just thinking about whether or not I was going to drink. It was exhausting.
Since the couple wasn’t sure if they could find last minute childcare I finally told myself, ‘If they don’t come over I’m not drinking, if they do come over I’ll drink.’ But I thought they wouldn’t come over, so when we received the text at 8:15pm that they were on their way, I sighed.
Dammit.
Sam didn’t understand my predicament. I didn’t have to drink. But I told him, “It will just be easier if I drink.”
He took a sip of his wine and quoted Tim Ferriss at me: “Hard choices, easy life.”
I wanted to slap him.
But why did I think it would be easier? I didn’t want to deal with Sam’s buddy saying, “You’re not drinking, Charlie? C’mon, how often do we get to hang out? Are you pregnant??”
I was also feeling tired and lethargic. A glass of wine would give me just enough pep to be more social. More “fun.” I always associate drinking with a good time. Like that Red Bull ad: “Red Bull gives you wings!” Similarly, alcohol makes you fun!
But Red Bull does not, in fact, give you wings.
I was getting that uncomfortable feeling I get right before a social situation. An anticipation. A drink would make everything better. A drink would solve all my problems.
Sam wasn’t sure what to say to me. He didn’t know what I needed. He said, “Having a glass of wine is fine if it’s going to make you feel better. But if it’s going to make you feel worse then you shouldn’t.”
I had the self-awareness to realize at this point, after all this struggle, even one glass of wine wouldn’t make me feel bad physically, but it would make me feel bad mentally. So as our friends rang the doorbell I told Sam, “I’m not drinking.”
Our friends stayed for three hours. They drank wine while I drank water.
No one seemed to notice.
And when I got animated retelling my birth story (as I do), I didn’t get self-conscious that I was being too loud or too boring or repeating myself. I was just being me. And then I had a good night’s sleep. And felt great the following morning.
“Hard choices, easy life.”
Essay of the Week
Last April I started working on a longform essay about my journey to a healthy body image. I recently re-read the draft and felt bored by it.
Then I got excited about a book idea: “Totally Fine Trainwrecks” (working title, please help).
So I’m breaking up the longform essay into short essays because that’s what feels right.
This week’s essay was from the chapter about blacking out, something I used to do a lot.
April Fools!
April Fools’ Day is stupid.
Unless someone does a really funny prank and we get to see the whole thing unfold on social media. Like when former bachelorette Kaitlyn Bristowe pranked her boyfriend, Jason Tartick.
Watch the video here. It’s too long. But I got a real kick out of it.
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Until next week,
Charlie