I don’t drink alcohol very often. I used to, though. I started drinking in high school when I
began dating an older dude who introduced me to the wonders of Black Velvet. He also introduced me to heartache when he
dumped me and began dating another girl, a girl I considered a friend. I then took up drinking to dull the pain of a
broken heart, as well as to escape being pulled in all directions by my parents
and their terrible, ugly divorce proceedings.
I drank pretty heavily for the next seven or eight years, but I never
liked the taste of it—any of it. Beer I
hated the least, so that was my beverage of choice.
While I
was drunk, I slept with at least fifteen dudes.
Some I still don’t know if I slept with,
but the clues pointed me in that direction. I stopped drinking when I met my first
husband. Most of my life had been spent
trying to win the love of a boy, and that’s a different story, but once I had
one, I didn’t drink much. The older I
got, the worse my hangovers got. A few
years later, though, my husband and I split, and even though I was happy about
that, I was nervous. I was back in the
dating game, and I pretty quickly got burned.
And then I started dating a great guy who drank, so I went through
another phase of drinking. Eventually,
though, I slowed down and stopped, because I still never liked drinking. I liked being drunk, but I hated it going
down and I hated the next day. Even if I
drink a little bit, I feel like crap for a whole day. So I pretty much stopped. I drank a little in graduate school, mostly because
EVERY. SINGLE. FUNCTION. outside of school involved everyone
getting sloppy drunk, and I suppose I wanted to fit in, and to fit in I needed
to be chatty, and I’m not a Chatty Cathy by nature. So even though I only got tipsy three or four
times during my two years of grad school, I still drank way more than my
usual.
And
today, I don’t drink for all of those reasons mentioned, plus one more: Someone I love very much is an
alcoholic. And I am so pissed at ALL THE
ALCOHOL IN THE WORLD, by which I suppose I mean the culture we live in. For fuck’s sake, I can’t read a Facebook
status, tweet, blog post, whatever, without the casual mention of alcohol. It’s fucking ridiculous. “Had a rough day, lol, going to get my drink
on. Watch out, yo!” “Mommy needs her bottle.”
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| We couldn't help but wonder when we'd get our own gin blossoms to giggle about. |
I
really do not understand the alcohol culture.
Go out for dinner—drink! Stay at
home with your partner—drink! Take out
the garbage—that deserves a martini! It
pervades EVERYTHING. And here’s a thing
I don’t get: Mention how your kids make
you want to drink, and you’re a normal mom.
Mention how your kids make you want to take a toke, and by god, you’re
going to get blasted and possibly reported to the authorities.
FUCK
THAT. Our society tells us to go out and
drink, drink, drink your life away. You’ll
look cool, you’ll have that extra burst of confidence, you’ll be able to dance,
you’ll get up the nerve to call that girl or boy, you’ll be friends with the
cool people, the next day you’ll be able to tweet about how totally wasted,
sauced, sloshed, tanked, pickled, and fucked up you were. At the same time, we’re pissed beyond all
belief about the person who gets five DUIs.
We’re outraged when a drunk fight breaks out and someone is hurt or
killed. With good reason, these anger
feelings. But it’s a very mixed message
we’re getting. Drink responsibly. Talk about an oxymoron.
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