It’s hard enough being single. Try being sober and single.
I had an epiphany recently: For the last 20 years, I have only dated with a drink in my hand. I mean, how do you make out with a random guy in a bar sober??
I’m actually quite shy by nature so chatting to guys in bars with sparkling water in my glass is taking extra effort. I’m finding it hard getting past the “what are you drinking?” point.
I recall dating a guy in my early 20s who didn’t drink. He never drank actually, he never liked the taste of it, which I frankly couldn’t understand. Needless to say that didn’t last long.
So when My Big Crush asked me to his house for a party out of the blue, my first thought was, “What am I going to wear??”
That was immediately replaced by a second, more panicked thought:
“What the heck am I going to DRINK??”
I admit I almost made an excuse and cancelled. But I knew that I’d have to face this at some point, and it was now or never.
So I made sure I had a great outfit as well as a bottle of real wine for him and a bottle of faux wine for me, which I shoved in his fridge before he could see the label.
All was well, until he tried to top me up.
He pulled out my bottle of Torres Natureo Rosé with the “0.5% alcohol” volume displayed in the top right-hand corner of the label and did a double-take.
HIM: “Hmmm. I’ve never seen this kind before.”
ME: “Ummm, yeah. Just trying to be healthy!”
To his credit, it didn’t seem to faze him at all. I was relieved. And feeling silly that I made such a big deal out of it in the first place. There wasn’t a big spotlight on me or my glass. Nobody cares what I’m drinking. I started to relax and join everyone else in enjoying a really great party.
That is, until My Big Crush flipped on the Stones and came over to where I was sitting on the couch, extended his hand and asked me to dance in front of EVERYONE.
Now, I never had a problem cutting a rug. But I usually had a cocktail or glass of wine surgically attached to my right hand and a good buzz going.
I got up and he twirled me around. I was so worried about stepping on his feet that I wasn’t dancing, I was clumsily stomping around him. I felt like an elephant being tickled.
I’m not sure if he noticed how awkward I felt but we didn’t finish the song. He released me back to the safety of the couch and returned to his hosting duties.
I left not long after that. On the walk home, I had the first thought that maybe this dry thing wasn’t worth it. Was my old drinking life really that bad??
Thankfully the little pity party didn’t last long. Let’s face it, the old me could have fallen down his stairs or woken up on his couch or thrown up all over his bathroom or worse…
I shudder at the thought.
No, I’ll stick with my faux wine, thank you very much.
DryChick lives in London. She started DryScene to show people that they can have fun without alcohol. She wants to promote a healthy lifestyle and connect like-minded people through her events, where the focus is on the fun and not what’s in your glass. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.Tags: dating, Dry, faux wine, party
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