The Year of No Magical Drinking

Today marks one year since I had a drink.

A whole year, 365 uncomfortably sober days, without a drop of booze.

I'm going to try to keep this within the tone of The Sleepover and less within the realm of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. Except that I think that's about a pubescent girl getting her first period. Which is decidedly different from abstaining from alcohol consumption for a year.

Being a non-drinker for a year has given me a lot of insight into myself and the world around me. And it's made me a much douchier person. I'm sure I was an irritating drunk. I don't doubt that on more than one occasion you had to repeat stories, memories or even your name to me because I was blacked out. On the other hand, I was a lot of fun to be around. I went out. I socialized. I had fun with other human beings. I was relatively uninhibited. I even danced sometimes.

Nowadays, I fall more into the realm of judgmental cockrag. Are you the guy who's just having a good time doing shots and maybe stumbling around? I'm probably judging you for moral laxity. Are you the girl in the bar who's a little too loud and little too drunk for 8:30 PM? I'm almost certainly hating on you in my mind.

Well no more. I'm resolved to not be that asshole anymore. And the first step is to start drinking again.

/Falls of wagon

//Hard

I'm kidding. And sober as the soberest proverbial judge.

I miss drinking, but how much? I don't miss being hungover. I don't miss not remembering my evenings. I do miss the taste of real beer. And real wine. And real... booze. Cocaine just isn't the same when you're not drunk. I miss the camaraderie and the opportunities for obscene behavior. People seem more weirded out when I talk about/take out my genitals while sober. As if I need beer to take the bearded triplets for a walk.

Anyway, happy one year sober for me. To celebrate, have an extra drink or 3 for me.