Monday, December 01, 2008
November is one of my two sober months. This month, I did really well. Though I did have some tastes of sake in Takayama, and two Coronas last Friday, I pretty much stayed alcohol and tobacco free for a month. After the first week, it didn't seem so bad at all, except of course at parties and bars. I found that without drinking, being in a bar with drinkers isn't so fun.
Which made me realize something: this world is full of non-drinkers, and they don't really like drinkers, much in the same way that drinkers don't really like non-drinkers. After remaining sober during a very very drunken party, I had to admit that I felt a little isolated from the collective drunken debauchery idea of fun, despite being amused at seeing the other side for a change. The next day, I asked my non-drinking girlfriend, who ironically has a bar, "how on earth do you not only handle being around drunken people all the time, let alone me, the epitome of a borderline alcoholic?" Her answer was "because I love you". Sweet, but it didn't satisfy my curiousity.
After I pressed on, and said, ya....but come on, after years and years and years of nights like that, you must get annoyed. Right, right? And so she admitted it, yes, she doesn't really like it so much. This, of course, does make me feel uncomfortable, as an avid drinker...but, what can you do?
Regardless of that, I often get angry at myself after a night of much drinking when I feel sick in the morning, or acted a fool in front of people I don't know well, which are usually the occasions when I feel less confident and prone to drink more. So, May and November act as a reminder that I'm strong enough to be a non-drinker if I am so inclined. Am I?
Of course, I wish I didn't have the urge in my blood, in my childhood memories of parties and good times meaning lots of alcohol. I wish I didn't know how good it feels to be free of your stifling inhibitions and shyness. Knowing how good it feels to be drunk, standing on chairs or tables, yelling or laughing or sing at the top of your lungs without any reservations, as if you were a child again, playing as loud as you'd like, in the middle of a play yard, with friends.