» Sobering thoughts
Katie’s ‘dry spell’ reveals rather more about British booze culture than she’d imagined
This week I have not been drinking – booze that is. It’s been six days, four hours and 20 minutes since I last consumed alcohol – but hey, who’s counting?
Actually, jokes aside, I have surprised myself with how much of a nonissue my non-drinking has been. Contrary to my suspicions that I was turning into an alcoholic, this week has assured me I can get on just fine without a glass in my hand. Much to my relief I’ve discovered that I’m equally as inclined to sing at inappropriate times, giggle to myself, shed my clothes on the dance floor and fall into bed with the nearest blonde teenager whether I’m drinking or not.
But in the same week that I confirmed I wasn’t an alcoholic, I unintentionally discovered something else - everyone else is. Because while I’ve been clubbing, bed hopping and binge shopping with all my usual zeal, the one thing that has consistently threatened to flatten my bubbly free week is the constant chorus I’ve heard wherever I’ve gone: ‘why aren’t you drinking?’
‘Why aren’t you drinking’ has droned through my week like a bad smell. And it’s not going away. Some say it with shock, others with awe. Some people have whispered it (as if the answer will reveal a guilty secret), while others have snarled it, forcing a glass of unwanted wine on me. But everyone, EVERYONE, has said it.
“The first rule of ‘Grown-up Drinking Club’ is you MUST keep drinking”
My not drinking, it seems, is more of a problem for everyone else than it is for me. Because over six days of non-drinking I have fielded close to 40 enquiries as to the reason why. ‘When did we turn into an alcohol obsessed culture?’ I found myself wondering (very Carrie Bradshaw) as I brushed off the umpteenth barman with another excuse.
Ironically it was never like this when I was a teenager. Back then it was easy – you were either draining a bottle of White Lightning at the top of the skateboard ramps, or you were sitting home with your parents. There was ‘not drinking’ and there was ‘getting wasted off your face’. But apparently, from your 20s onwards, everything changes. Binge drinking becomes casual drinking. Going out becomes a quiet night in. And three bottles of Babycham becomes a pint
after work.
It’s a grown-up world of moderated drinking where one will never be enough and four will always be too many. And it’s a world to which I never knew the rules, until I realised I’d broken them. Because the first rule of ‘Grown-up Drinking Club’ is that you MUST keep drinking.
grown-up drinking clubs no one likes a non-drinker because if you are not drinking you are drawing attention to the fact that everyone else feels the need to. The teetotaler is a show-off, parading their selfconfidence and ability to relax naturally in the face of everybody else.
People hear “I’m just not drinking” as an insult, a direct snub to their inability to say no. The only viable reasons for being teetotal, in the adult world of the moderate drinker, are to be a recovering alcoholic or a first pregnancy, because then at least you’re not doing it out of choice. Nope. If I learnt one thing this week it’s that no one likes a non-drinker. So, as the week comes to a close and I’m about to jump off the wagon, frankly, it comes as something of a relief. I’m not looking forward to my first G’n’T half as much as I’m looking forward to not having to discuss my drinking with anyone else.
But if my dry patch has taught me anything, it’s that giving up booze isn’t just a matter of kicking the bottle. The hardest part of all is convincing anyone around you to accept it.
