What is the big deal with drinking?
When I was younger I couldn’t wait to grow up a bit so I could have a drink. Now I’ve grown up I kind of don’t see what the fuss is all about.
My first foray into alcohol came a long time ago. It was a New Year’s Eve and I snuck more than the one drink I had been allowed to see in the New Year.
I consequently threw up outside one of my parents friends’ houses and then spent the next day trying desperately to do my paper round on what I now know to be a hangover.
Over the years my relationship with booze didn’t improve. Sure I grew to love the taste of most things more but I was still irresponsible.
In my 20s (and on my 30th) hours of a night would go by without me realising it. I would meet people, have conversations and do things that I didn’t remember the next day – yet still I described it as a great night.
I would have a shot because I’d be ‘challenged’ to, I’d pre-drink too much because I was self-conscious about an upcoming night out and I’d spend far too much money on something that I was just literally pissing away.
So why do we do it?
First of all it’s a social thing. ‘Fancy a pint’ is a common question I’ve not only asked but been asked myself. It translates to ‘Fancy a chat out somewhere that’s not at home.’ It’s a way of meeting up with people and just casually having one or two.
Secondly, it’s become a way for many to celebrate or blow off steam (sometimes a little bit too much for those who can’t handle it.) People associate drinking with a celebration and think you must go out and drink to have a good time.
As I’ve grown older I’ve kind of thought the opposite. I’m not saying I’m against drinking by writing this, you have to understand, I’m just saying sometimes I like to remember a moment. Whether that’s a football match, a night out or any other occasion, sometimes I want to relax, enjoy the moment, and more importantly remember it the next day.
I just don’t think people should be defined by how much they drink. It’s like people are shocked when you go to a pub and ask for a soft drink. They act like it’s a sign of weakness that you don’t fancy a pint.
I recently went out, didn’t drink and had an amazing and hilarious night. I drove home, I woke up fresh the next day and I amazed myself (and J) with just how quiet I was when I got home. It turns out I’m not as quiet as I think I am when I come home drunk.
This isn’t me saying I’m now teetotal. I just don’t understand the stigma around not wanting to drink ALL THE TIME.
I can’t wait for this blog to bite me on the arse the next time I’m smashed for no reason on a Thursday.