What I learned by cutting down on alcohol

Growing up, especially in my last few years of high school, I’ve often heard that my genetic make-up of German and Irish genes put me in the category of somebody who can ‘take her drink’ - however, anybody that knows me knows that the the stereotypical images of a leprechaun downing pints of Guinness, or a Bavarian, dirndl-clad girl chugging two litre steins of Weißbeer do not really apply to me. Granted, I took part of the rite of passage of underage purchasing of cheap, off-brand Jagermeister from Centra with the terrible fake IDs supplied to us by a brother of a friend of a friend - how the cashiers turned a blind eye, I’ll never understand. I threw myself headfirst into the fresher’s week ritual of drinking as much free beer as humanly and physically possible, camping out at festivals in the pouring rain and digesting only 65 cent Aldi beer and bread. And yet, with all these seemingly ‘normal’ rites of passage, or rituals, or whatever coming of age term you can come up with - I never really enjoyed it as much as I was pretending, or thought to be. My mother had lovingly passed on her genetic mix of a larger nose, an interest of books and unfortunately a very low alcohol tolerance that reared its head in my early twenties; a sharp contrast to my teenage years of binge drinking without much effort, the ability to process copious amounts of alcohol that would no doubt render me comatose today.

About five months ago I decided that I would cut down on drinking, be it a glass of wine over dinner, beers that I didn’t really want but would take out of the generosity of others buying them or even just going out to clubs. I wanted to see if I could ‘survive’ nights out without drinking and just running on my body’s energy, which I initially thought would be impossible. I’ve been anaemic for quite a large chunk of my life and I tire easily, especially late at night when the effect of booze would wear off and I’d turn grumpy and exhausted, desperate to escape back to the comfort of my own apartment. I also thought about the financial aspect of cutting down on overpriced gin and tonics in clubs, to see if doing without a bottle of wine at dinner would take the dent out of my wallet. I went into this little jaunt with curiosity, a small dash of pessimism and a wavering amount of optimism that I might be able to survive social gatherings without the presence of alcohol.

The first challenge presented itself in the form of a festival in April that a large group of my friends were going to. I already knew that I wouldn’t partake in the ingestion of other various ‘fun’ substances so the fact that I would be sober the whole day was a little daunting at best. I drank one IPA at home beforehand while my friends drank triple that amount and more - I was already being teased as the Sober Sally as the group, which only made me more determined and aghast at myself as to why the hell I had told everybody my ‘mission’ in the first place - the thought of me being a smug, virtue-signalling idiot played on my mind. But - all pessimism aside - I made it through the whole day on a single IPA. One beer. And I can honestly say that it was one of the most fun days I had this year, and also entertaining - watching the festival goers staggering around high and drunk was like watching an alternate universe to how I was feeling! And, probably the most amazing aspect was that I was absolutely full of energy, practically bursting at the seams with it. I danced from 2pm to midnight without so much as a stitch.

This same experience occurred at other social gatherings, and what I realised was that I definitely was not the only one of my friend group who was feeling the same urge to rely less on alcohol to have fun. Most of them had the same sentiment of asking themselves why they drank for the sake of it, why the pressure to ‘blow off steam’ was so great, especially during the ages of your twenties. Many expressed concerns over the rising prices of alcohol in Dublin and the loathing of paying €6.50 for a beer or €10 for a watered-down G&T at bars advertising themselves with “two for one Tuesdays for Ladies’ Night!” and “Double Up with that After-Work Feel!”. What I realised probably more than anything was the drive in marketing to get women to drink - a subject that I could go on about forever - and how much it frustrated me. I read this article which infuriated and flabbergasted me even more - everything she said was spot on. The author felt such an isolation from other women when she decided to stop drinking altogether, and how she dealt with the reactions of others taught me that the promotion of alcohol to women differs much to how it’s marketed to men. Women are encouraged to deal with our problems by buying stupid pink bottles of wine or overpriced cocktails under the guise of ‘you deserve it’, as a kind of remedy to societal problems. Why are we being told to drink so much more than we actually need, or want to? Not just women, but men too - I can only imagine the kind of toxic masculinity traits that would make it hard for many men to admit that they don’t really like drinking, when you’re being raised to believe that if you don’t drink you’re not a “lad” - you’re a pussy, a wimp.

Maybe this whole experiment taught me that we don’t just have to do things for the sake of it. I’m still a fan of a good wine or a fancy cocktail from time to time. There are times that I do feel like drinking a bit too much, but at least I know that’s what I actually want to do, and I’m not being pressured into it by my sub-conscious expectations of what it is to have ‘fun’. It’s kind of like these other activities that I never got the appeal of - like bowling, or Jager shots, or watching golf. Are we actually enjoying ourselves?! And maybe this article makes me sound like some kind of freak who doesn’t enjoy drinking with her mates, who’s really into fasting or joined a lifestyle forum preaching the benefits of drinking your own urine or other interesting, potentially dangerous methods of self-care. In any case, let me know - we can rant together about the societal pressures on women to engage in heavy drinking - and perhaps over an overpriced orange juice in a brunch place of your choice - with or without the dash of prosecco, depending on which side of the fence you’re sitting on.