Disclaimer: Just a Thot is a segment where I analyze, criticize, interrogate and question myself or the things I care/think about a lot, but it’s mostly a place to chastise myself. It’s usually for nobody’s benefit but mine to write out my thoughts, rant a little, complain a bit etc. If there is a thought you agree, disagree or relate with, great. If not, you just wasted your time. Or you learned something new. Idk here are some words I wrote.
Last night I did the unfathomable: I went clubbing sober. It was my best friends much anticipated 19th birthday. I only have a handful of friends, and they are all three Michelin star worthy and considered family. So you see, because of my low quantity/high quality social circle, I don’t get out much. But when I do, I usually go ape shit. Going out (i.e. clubbing, bar hopping, house parties etc.) all involve one imperatively contingent activity: drinking. It’s got me deep in the chicken vs. egg conundrum: what came first, the alcohol or the friends?
Like I said, I could be heavy a drinker. In conjunction with my small stature and unrestrained nature, it’s a recipe for yack. Back in December I had my last drink. I didn’t have this epiphany or anything, but I just refused wine from grandma, shots from friends, bottomless mimosas at brunch… This snowballed into a five-month streak of a mojito free lifestyle.
Last night, when looking at life without beer goggles or rosé colored glasses, all I saw was sweaty bodies half consciously squirming on each other. Me and my friends were having fun, and we danced and sang and had a blast. Most importantly, seeing my best friend have a great time made me the happiest person standing. But beyond our booth, into the dark abyss of hiked mini skirts and perspiring men, what used to look like my jam now looked spoilt. That’s the thing with social drinking (drinking in general): the whole point is to not see life clearly, to invent a temporary sense of reality. You know, take the edge off, live a little. I’m all about having a good time, isn’t that the whole point of life? But I rapidly grew reliant on the burning help of Belvedere to enjoy my surroundings. Because if everybody’s shitfaced drunk, you either join them or clean up after them. Being around drunk people is most fun when you’re a drunk person, or else it’s a lost cause. I don’t know what’s worse, sitting alone sober or taking a fifth body shot. You’re winning and losing in both cases, and like they say, you choose your own battles.
In my previous Just A Thot, I mentioned how I have difficulty doing unproductive things. I’m not old or wise, but when I look back at last year I can’t believe how dependent I became on alcohol. And the more I drank, the less sociable I became sober. I’ve never been a totally reserved or unsocial person, but the more I liked my drunk self, the less I liked my sober self. This by far, has been the most counterproductive thing I’ve ever done. I can’t help but think if I didn’t spend every weekend of last year blacking out at bars (ok, not every weekend), I would have a better time going out sober now. Besides, all of high school I managed to get drunk off life instead of Corona’s.
If having a good time is dependent on a bottle, then I need to challenge myself to not be. The idea of my happiness being determined by the number of shots I take doesn’t make sense to me (yeah, I’m a nerd). When life handed me free shots, I made vodka and lemon martinis. But having too much of a good thing defeats the purpose and I’m over it. The fact that I can remember all the hot guys and their names feels victorious. Not to mention how much money I’ve saved not downing Veuve like it’s water.
To be clear, I don’t drink at all. Not even a single shot. First of all, if I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it right (right is subjective). Cold turkey is the only way that works for me. I was vegan for five years, and I didn’t half ass it for a day. If I’m going to have an ice cream, I’d rather just end it there and have Sweet Jesus at my leisure. But once I commit to something, I commit fully. I’m no longer vegan (mostly because I hate labels) and my initial intention of changing my diet was for health reasons. I have a plethora of health issues; cutting out all the vices seemed to be my way to go. Now tI just do what works for me. Same thing goes for alcohol. Acid reflux, water depletion and a beer belly? No, thank you. What was even unhealthier was the fear of running my red solo cup dry. ‘More alcohol, more fun’ was not an ideology I wanted to believe. I’d rather not even have a sip. I don’t miss it, it was never enjoyable. It was the results from drinking that I wanted.
Cleary I wasn’t a raging alcoholic, just a regular young adult doing young adult things. But the older you get, the more you understand who you are, and I’m not a club crawling rave princess. But cheers to the ladies who are and to the ladies who aren’t because do you, boo. And you know what, I had just as much fun last night sober as I would drunk because I was with people I love. Drink as much as you want, or as little, it really doesn’t matter. Just live your life as happy as you can doing whatever it is you want to do. Fuck the system. It criticizes you whether you’ve blacked out or stayed sober. I’ll be there throwing ciroc down your throat if you want me to, holding your hair back, or being your sober buddy. Live life your way. I’m out.
*also, if I’m going to consume my weight in anything, you best bet it’s ice cream and fries.