The 'drunkard detector'

Happy, hangover free Sunday morning everyone!

I was out on Friday night at a dinner party hosted by a couple I have known for 25 years. There were ten of us there, two I didn't know at all, and another four who I knew vaguely.

I learned a number of things that evening.

One: most people don't drink at least half a bottle of wine before they arrive at a party. I'd thought that pretty much everyone started drinking fairly early on a Friday.

When I was still working I would use 'thank God it's Friday' as an excuse to take my whole team out for a (boozy) lunch. Friday afternoon children's playdates would often end with a glass of vino rather than a cup of tea. Even if I hadn't found an excuse to open a bottle before 6pm, I definitely wouldn't wait a minute past 'wine-o-clock' before getting stuck in.

Doesn't everyone have a 'quick sharpener' or two while they're getting ready to go out? It appears not, because one thing I noticed on Friday was that, at the beginning of the evening at least, everyone appeared stone cold sober. Needless to say, in my BS (before sober) days, I would not have been.

Two: most people do not get drunk at a dinner party. Who knew? I was so busy getting merrily drunk myself (never embarrassingly so; never staggering, vomiting or abusive, but probably a little slurry by the end) that I just assumed everyone else was doing the same. But of our ten, at least 2 others drank no more than two or three glasses of wine all evening, and no one was obviously plastered by the end.

Three: I am - I think - much better company sober. I talked, in equal measures, to the bloke on my left and my right (BS I would have stuck with the 'more interesting one' as much as possible, ignoring the poor chap on the other side), and I was genuinely interested in what they had to say. BS I used to get stuck on 'transmit' and somebody else talking was just a helpful pause for me to be able to work out what other (tired old) anecdote I would wheel out next.

Four: I can spot the kindred spirit. Back in the early nineties when (and it seems odd now) coming out of the closet was a very difficult process, a gay friend of mine told me that he could always spot the repressed homosexual at a party. He called it his 'gaydar'. I suspect that I have a similar 'drunkard-detector'.

Here's what caused the drunkard detector to start bleeping: Most of Friday's guests asked about me not drinking (I've just quit for a while...detox...weight loss...blah blah) and then moved on. The lovely guy on my left, however, couldn't let it drop. He asked if I'd gone to AA. He talked about his problems moderating alcohol. I could see him watching the bottle and feeling awful about asking me to pass it when he didn't have the excuse of topping up my glass en route. I knew my not drinking was making him envious and uncomfortable in equal measures. I knew all of this because I have been there.

So, in general, Friday was a huge success. I drove there and back (no taxis - what freedom!), I had a good time. I was - I think - a good guest. I woke up without a hangover. But the next day I still felt really sad. I still fear that as people realise that I'm no longer 'joining in' that I will get left out. I worry that as I dry out all the invitations will dry up. I know that this is shallow of me, but being sociable has always been part of my raison d'etre. And, remember, I spend most of my day with people under the age of twelve, so my evenings are often my only chance to talk to grown ups.

On the subject of friends, one of the best things about writing this has been the people I've met already on the journey. In a short period of time you feel bizarrely close to faceless friends who've been brave enough to comment and to share something of themselves.

And then some of them disappear, and you think 'have they just got bored and moved onto more interesting things?' - in which case, fair enough. Or have they fallen off the wagon and don't feel able to read/comment any more?

I especially miss funny, Irish Kags who stopped drinking at the same time as me. Did she hit The Wall (see The Sober Rollercoaster) too and fall into a ditch? Where are you Kags? Please come back, drinking or not! And where is lovely Laura from Belgium, my continental doppelganger? I guess I have to get used to people dipping in and out, but it's hard not to worry about them.

Love to you all. SM x

Related posts: Will I lose all my friends? And for those of you who are new to this blog and this journey, have a look at Sundays: Hair of the Dog

Why Ex-Drinkers Rock!

We ex-drinkers get a really bad rap. Which is why so many of us stay in the closet for weeks, if not months or years, after quitting drinking. If you give up smoking you tell the world and everyone pats you on the back. Give up drinking and you mumble apologetically about 'being on antibiotics.' Why?

It's not at all surprising when you look at the image of the ex-drinker. We're seen as weak willed, lacking in self control, abnormal, ill, addicted. Which makes absolutely no sense at all. How can you - Mrs drinker - accuse me of being weak willed, lacking in self control, abnormal, ill and addicted when I haven't had a drink for 16 days (woo hoo!), while you're still downing the best part of a bottle every evening? Who's really the weak willed one? I'm the healthy, normal person - not the lady who is still obsessed by 'wine o'clock' and doing terrible damage to her liver every day.

We are not lacking in self control. We're the ones who've looked hard at our lives and decided to do something about it, despite swimming against the tide of the rest of society. We are bl***y strong, and we should be wearing t-shirts celebrating the fact, not hiding behind 'an important meeting in the morning' or 'got to drive home'.

Okay, maybe in the past we had an eeensy little issue with moderation, but is that such an awful thing? I bet we're not moderate in anything, and on the whole that's laudable.

I may have been hopeless at moderating nicotine (I smoked 30 a day before giving up 13 years ago) and alcohol, but I don't moderate the good stuff either. Anything I do, I do with gusto - the career, friendship, motherhood, marriage - and my drinking buddies were the same.

I met some of the most interesting and wonderful people smoking behind the bike sheds and staying late at the party with an additional bottle. We were the rebels - the ones who loved pushing the boundaries and riling against the rules. And I'm still a rebel at heart, and proud of it. Personally, I would much rather chat to the ex-drinker at a party than the person who's never coloured outside the lines.

We are not bad people, we're people with a massive lust for life who have just realised that we've got to the stage where we need to re-focus our enthusiasm onto something a bit less self-destructive. And whatever we re-focus on we'll do brilliantly.

Now, I'm not ready to come out yet and deal with everyone else's negative perceptions, but I'm sure as hell not going to beat myself up when I'm doing the bravest and best thing I've done in my life to date.

I rock! And so do you! So they can stick that in their oversized wine glass and drink it.

Apologies to my regular readers, but I'm going to have to stop posting every day and post every two or three days instead. I've got to do something about the finished novel languishing in my desk drawer, plus I'm worried about running out of stuff to say. I don't want to start boring you! I will reply to comments daily, though, so please stay in touch. And if you have any topics you'd like me to post on then please let me know.

Have a great, immoderate, day. SM x

Related post: Why Ex-Drinkers Rock! Part 2

Will I lose all my friends?

Day 13 and it's a Saturday. In the old days I would wake up feeling ropey and trying desperately to go back to sleep while the dog and the children all take turns piling in under the duvet, excited about a new day - their enthusiasm equally matched by my despair. I would then try and get through the morning of chores, ferrying children to activities and so on, counting the hours and minutes until 12pm when I could reasonably open a bottle of wine 'to go with lunch'.

Today my eyes snapped open at 6.30am and I had that fabulous slow realisation that 'something is different. What is it? Oh yes, I'm not drinking. Yay - no hangover. I feel fabulous!' I greet the onslaught of dog and children with open arms and equally matched enthusiasm. I have a whole, glorious day ahead of me to fill. I feel like a child.

I'm doing a lot of reading right now, as well as writing, and I came across a beautifully written and really funny piece by John Cheese on Cracked.com entitled 'Seven things you don't know about addiction until you quit.' I was nodding along happily until I got to #6: You Will Lose Most of Your Friends. Wait John Cheese - STOP RIGHT THERE. I want to get off. I have spent thirty years building up my circle of fabulous friends and if this journey means losing most of them I'm going straight back to the Chablis. Is this really true?

John's argument is that most of your friends are bound to be 'drinking buddies' and that - without the alcohol - either they won't want to hang out with you or you won't want to hang out with them. Or both. Now I like to think that I chose my friends for far more profound reasons than that they drank. I thought I chose them (and, I hope, they me) for their kindness, wit, intelligence - not their fondness of a sauvignon blanc. However, it is possible that the friends I've seen more than others (and therefore grew closer to) were the ones happy to spend hours over a few bottles setting the world to rights.

I haven't told any of my friends yet that I'm intending not to drink again, ever. Or my family. Instead I've said that I'm 'giving up for Lent, and to give the liver a break.' This is seen as entirely appropriate and laudable (if a little boring) in my circles. I'm hoping that by the time I 'come out' they will have seen that I'm actually a better person when sober, and quite happy for them to carry on imbibing around me so I won't be dropped like a hot potato.

But a niggling voice tells me that John may be right - at least to an extent. I bumped into a Mum friend outside the school yesterday and she said "Why we go out for a bottle of champagne next week since I missed your birthday party?" (The birthday party was the last time I drank alcohol). I said "Great, but I'm not drinking - giving up for Lent. Give the liver a break, you know how it is?!" She looked crestfallen and said "When's Lent finish? Give me a call then!" I shouted after her "I can go out anyway!" But she'd gone.

Is it true that in our messed up society if you're not getting messed up on a regular basis you're deemed boring? Perhaps in going alcohol free we make others question their own habits and feel uncomfortable. Will I have any friends left? Please advise!