When I was fifteen, I broke into my father’s booze cabinet and mixed everything
I could get my bony hands on, poured it into a glass, and drank it neat. My pupils
dilated, my heart raced, my body got all wobbly, and my speech slurred. It was
love at first bitter sweet sip. Alcohol made me funnier. More confident. It gave me game. I could have conversations with the opposite
sex without dropping everything at arms distance and giggling like a school
girl telling her friends that she just got her period. But the best part about drinking was that it
made people more interesting and more attractive. But alcohol and I had our issues.
The 24 hour long hangover where I’d stare face down at my toilet bowl with my finger
down my throat. The making an “ass of myself” pictures. The thousands of falls
my- not- so –cushioned- ass has endured. No, it wasn’t always pretty, because
just like most people, alcohol made me invincible in a Courtney love-esque way.
I don’t mean the cool, bad ass Court. I mean the more recent wasted- mascara
running down her face-crotchless panty wearing- Courtney Love. Ok, I am exaggerating but I did feel pretty ridiculous the morning after.
Alcohol also made me angry and super emo. Of course my boyfriend (now
husband ) was the enemy. I’d launch my attack on him and declare war
over the sound of blaring speakers at a party.
me-“I can’t do this anymore.
”him-But
why.. we are at a party.
me-You don’t
love me. You’re ignoring me.
him-Yes, we
are at a party.
me-I’m
leaving you. It’s over. Goodbye.
If you’ve paid attention, you’ll notice that I have been referring to
my relationship with alcohol in the past tense. I have decided to take a break. I haven’t decided when I want to
drink again because I am discovering a whole new side of me that isn’t drenched
in alcohol.But I must admit that the hardest part about not drinking is
socializing. Wow. Now that my beer, wine, and vodka goggles aren’t blurring my
vision, I find most peeps really boring and it is extremely annoying that
they cannot get past the fact that I am not drinking.These are the conversations I have at almost every party I attend.
Party person- What’s up man, long time brah.. braz.. dude.. baba..
babes (*insert any Delhi greeting)
Me- Ya.. how’ve you been?
Party person- The same man.. work and all that jazz.
Me- Ya… me too. You know I’ve started..
Party Person- (Cutting me off, and spitting a little on my mouth ) Let’s
get a shot!
Me- (politely ignoring the spit that is sitting on upper lip)
I’m not drinking.. but I’ll come with you.Party Person- What..? are you preg…..
Me- (my turn at cutting party person off ) Nope. Just not drinking.
Party Person- Oh like a detox? (A word we Delhi peeps love to use.)
Me- Well sort of but mostly want to do other things like cycling,
fitness, not wake up hungover.. not puke..
Party Person- But why?
Me- Never mind. Let’s get you that shot.
So I spend most of my nights explaining why I don’t drink, and trying
to prove that I am not boring. But the
truth is I am boring. Very boring. I can’t
do my famous pelvic thrusts with the ease that I used to. I am self conscious
(are those women whispering about my panty line? Does my breath reek of lemon
butter shrimp? Did I just hug my husband’s
boss inappropriately?) And I really don’t know what to talk to people about,
and the worst part is that I can’t even excuse myself to get a drink. “I’m
going to go get a Fanta” just doesn’t sound like an authentic enough
excuse. When I’m drunk I can talk to anyone
and I can dance like a paraplegic who has just learned to walk again. Uncoordinated
but ecstatic.
But I am much happier. And I’ve made peace with being “not as much fun,
dude.” After 13 years of drinking away my weekends, I finally have complete
weekends where I actually do things like cycle all the way to India gate at 8
am. Tick ofF my to-do lists. And spend
time getting to know my husband without a glass of wine obstructing my view.
Will I drink again? Probably. But I will never let it become my best friend again. It can be like a fun acquaintance
that I’m happy to meet on occasion.
