3 Top Tips for Partying Sober

The party season is upon us, folks, and it's a difficult time of year for the newly sober.

So, here is SoberMummy's guide to partying happily without the booze.

But, before we start, consider this important question: do you really have to go?

Don't shoot me down yet, I know it's crucial that going alcohol-free doesn't mess up our enjoyment of life in any way, that it brings only benefits and doesn't turn us all into norma-no-mates hermits, sitting at home feeling miserable.

Of course we should carry on going to parties, which (it so happens) are even better when you're not blurring all the edges (and then causing havoc) with booze.

However, if you're still in the early days of quitting and you really don't feel strong enough yet to cope with too much drunken revelry then do not feel guilty about taking a short sabbatical.

If you're an overly-enthusiastic drinker, then it's likely that you're a people pleaser and a party person. I'll bet you've been to way more than your share of boozy events in the past. You deserve a tiny bit of time off for good (or should that be bad?) behaviour.

So, if you're still feeling a bit raw and vulnerable, then just fake a bout of festive 'flu and hunker down with a box set and a hot chocolate. You'll be back with a bang before you know it.

But, for those of you who have a good run of sober days under the belt and are feeling upbeat and positive, ready to trip the light fandango and alcohol-free, then here we go:

1. Fake it until you make it

I have a dream that, in the not too distant future, there will come a time when we can announce that we've gone alcohol-free and the crowds will cheer, call us heroes and pat us on the back.

That time, however, is not yet here. As you'll know, currently if you tell people you've quit booze for good the response is a stunned silence, followed by a shocked and strangled "why? Do you have a problem?"

Now it may be that you're happy discussing the myriad reasons why you've decided to ditch the regular drinking of an addictive poison with a bunch of tipsy acquaintances, but, even if you are, repeating this speech over and over again at a party will undoubtedly become a little boring, which is why many of us decide to fake it until we make it.

This strategy involves clinging onto a non-alcoholic drink that looks like booze all evening. Think virgin mojito, alcohol-free beer or (if there's a real dearth of 'soft' drinks available), plain tonic water or soda.

If you're rumbled, then (despite what I tell my children) lying is perfectly acceptable. Tell them you're driving, you're on antibiotics or you have an important work presentation tomorrow.

When you're ready, a few weeks or months down the line, you can out yourself to friends and family in your own way, in your own time. Don't feel bullied into doing it at a party.

2. Play it forward

This is an extremely helpful AA mantra.

There will inevitably be a time (probably many) during the party when you start thinking maybe I should just have the one. One drink can't hurt. It'll help take the edge off a bit and make me relax...

At this point it's important to play the film forward. Because you know how the next few scenes go - you've been there hundreds of times before:

You don't have just one. You have several. You end up doing something you didn't mean to do, or saying something you didn't mean to say. You go home and, possibly, write something you didn't mean to write on social media, or buy something you didn't mean to buy on eBay, then you wake up in the middle of the night hating yourself and spend the next day feeling like death.

Right?

Even if you have iron clad willpower and stick to just that one drink, you'll only make it harder for yourself next time. At the next party you'll think I managed it last time, I can do it again. Before you know it, you'll be back to drinking a bottle of wine a day.

If you were good at moderation, you wouldn't be reading this. You're most likely an all-or-nothing person, and that's a great way to be, so long as (in this case), you stick with 'nothing.'

Here's another great AA mantra: drinking today is just borrowing tomorrow's happiness. Focus on tomorrow. You know that, if you stay sober, tomorrow is going to feel amazing.

3. Be kind to yourself

In the early days, take baby steps. Just turning up to the party for an hour or two is fantastic, you do not have to be the last to leave.

If you're finding it tough, take time out. Go for a walk. Go sit on the loo and check in on your sober Facebook group (join Club Soda, if you haven't already) or your favourite blogs. Find a good friend and have a quiet, life-affirming catch up in the corner.

Once you've had enough, just go. No need for long goodbyes or thank you's - everyone else will be drunk, they won't notice you sneaking out.

No need to wait for a mini-cab - you're SOBER, you can DRIVE.

You won't need to play it this cautiously for long. Before you know it you'll be back to being the life and soul of the party.

And partying sober is way better than partying drunk. You get to have proper discussions with people you haven't seen for ages. Discussions you remember. 

You get to make new connections, to have life-affirming conversations with new and fascinating people that make the other person feel valued and you value yourself.

You'll look much better, behave much better and feel proud of yourself. You'll be able to get out of your head on the atmosphere, the music and the dancing, but wake up the next day feeling brilliant.

You'll start looking at the drunk people in the room, thinking (not in a mean way) why did I ever do that to myself?

One warning though: without the anaesthesia of booze, dancing in high heels really hurts your feet. Take them off!

If you'd like to read about all the ups and downs of my first year sober, you can pre-order my book - the Sober Diaries - which is out in ONE MONTH. Click here to go to my Amazon page.

For regular inspiration and information (plus a few good laughs) go to my SoberMummy Facebook page. Click here to visit and 'like' to stay updated

Happy sober festivities to you all!

SM x

Sober Dinners

The thing we all seem to struggle with initially when we quit drinking is socialising.

It doesn't take too long before you're pretty comfortable staying in, dressed in your comfiest PJs, watching the latest box set and clutching a hot chocolate, BUT venture out to a dinner or a party and you're all.... ill at ease and scratchy.

This bothers us a lot, as often we enthusiastic imbibers are outgoing, sociable types. That's partly what got us into this mess in the first place, right?

Well, last night Mr SM and I were invited out to a smart Italian restaurant with seven others for dinner. The sort of evening that would have filled me with horror six months ago.

Dinners, for ages, made me feel twitchy. I'd worry that I was being really boring. I'd be obsessed by how much everyone else was drinking (not a lot, as it turned out. Who knew?).

I didn't know what to do with my hands which had spent ten years constantly clutching a cigarette, then the next fifteen wrapped around a wine glass.

But, last night, I realised that I was feeling rather.... relaxed. Comfortable. Not 100%, but well over ninety.

One of the issues with dinners down my way is that the conversational topics are often confined to (1) Idle gossip (2) The housing market and (3) Which schools you're trying to get your children into. This drives me quietly insane.

Then last night I realised that I'd been as big a culprit as any.

Back in the drinking days, after a few glasses, when my brain had gone all numb and sleepy, I'd fall back on the tired old topics, and reel out some boring old anecdotes. Plus, I'd completely fail to listen to anyone else.

Last night, down my end of the table, we talked about all sorts of stuff - none of it related to our children or house prices.

We discussed the terrible situation in Brussels. We talked about the 'fight or flight response' and whether we would be the hero on a sinking ship, or freeze and drown.

We laughed about how Stalin, in the second world war, thoughtfully sent condoms to the British troops (whose rubber factories were busy making tyres for army vehicles), but made them all extra large and labelled them 'medium,' which got us onto a random (rather x-rated) conversation about penis size.

We moved onto Madonna, and her custody dispute over Rocco, and if Jon Snow really was dead, or whether he'd be revived by the witchy woman with red hair in time to deal with the White Walkers.

It struck me that, being completely sober, wide awake and relaxed, I was firing on all cylinders.

By that point in the old days I'd have passed through the overly loud and domineering stage, and would have moved onto bored, tired and desperate to leave.

I'd done my usual trick of accepting a glass of wine at the beginning of the evening, then leaving it in my glass. No-one notices you're not drinking it, but it just avoids all the 'why are you off the booze' conversations.*

(I'm perfectly happy now with people knowing I'm not drinking, but often they're not. It makes them really uncomfortable, so I just try to avoid the issue.)

So, at the end of the meal, everyone's wine glasses were empty apart from mine. The guy on my right leant over and said, quietly, "Are you going to finish that, or would you mind if I did?"

Oh what joy!

Firstly, it reminded me how crazy I would have been driven by someone else's full glass of wine in the past. How I would have agonised over whether to say anything, or whether they'd notice if I just grabbed it.

Secondly, imagine, I was seen as the person who didn't feel the need to finish a glass of wine - who would just stop when she'd had enough, even if her glass was full. Ha ha ha. How wonderfully ironic.

As we left, I offered a lift home to two of friends who lived near us, much to their joy and amazement. ("You drove?"). As pretty much no-one else drives to dinner in central London, I'd nabbed a (free) parking space right outside the restaurant.

Sober dinners - I think I may have cracked it....

HAPPY SOBERVERSARY to Jennifer from Canada, who's been with me since the early days. Huge congrats Jennifer - you rock!

And so do all of you.

Love,

SM x

* Please DO NOT try this until you have read the cautionary tale and caveats here.

Will I Lose All My Friends? Part 2

One of the areas of sober life that I'm still getting to grips with is socialising.

I still find parties a bit odd. Funnily enough, I don't find myself drawn like a magnet to the bar. I'm happy with a diet coke. Deliriously so if they serve a virgin mojito. But I do feel a bit 'scratchy'. Like I'm on the outside looking in.

On the upside, I always get to drive home. I don't have to worry about slurring, accidentally insulting anyone, constantly having to queue for the loo, or banging into furniture. I don't wake up the next morning feeling like death and dredging the memory banks to see what I have to hate myself for.

And parties are getting easier, but they're still a work in progress.

This was a big concern of mine in the early days. Back on day 13 I wrote a post called Will I Lose All My Friends? (click here). I was worried that, without the drink, people would find me unbelievably dull, and would gradually drift away.

I realise now that the mistake I made was to assume that most socialising has to happen at parties, or, at least, in the evening.

Looking at my diary this week, I have a social event every single day.  At least one. But I only have one drinks party. The rest are mid week lunches with girlfriends, coffee and cake dates and long rambling dog walks. And - you know what? This type of 'socialising' is completely transforming my friendships.

When I relied on parties to catch up with friends, I found that you would only ever chat to one person for fifteen minutes. Tops. And you'd only cover the basics. Plus, once I'd had a few drinks it was all about me, me, me. Even if someone did give me some details about their own lives I'd forget them.

Party conversations in my neck of the woods revolve around the same general topics:

(1) Children and schools. Especially the 11+ and Common Entrance exams. To tutor, or not to tutor? Which/how many after school activities to arrange. Gripes about the nanny/au pair.

(2) House prices and home improvements. The problems with builders. The next door neighbour's triple decker basement dig out. Side returns. (Never heard of a side return? Count yourself lucky...).

(3) Where you're going on holiday. Also an opportunity to boast about the second home, and the children's prowess at skiing/French/scuba diving.

The other big conversational topic is gossip. I was a big fan. There's nothing that we people with dark, festering secrets love more than hearing about the imperfections of other people's lives. I especially loved tales of anyone deemed to have an addiction issue. Yay! I'd think. See - I'm not that bad. And even if I am, at least I'm not the only one....

 But this endless, mindless chitter chatter, one upmanship and gossip is bad for the soul. And it doesn't nourish friendships.

I remember when I was a teenager, and in my early twenties, I used to spend hours with girlfriends discussing the meaning of life. We knew each other inside out and back to front. We'd exchange hopes, dreams and fears ad infinitum.

Then, for the last decade or so, we'd just meet up at parties and spend ten minutes talking about whose au pair was shagging their husband, and whether it made more sense to do a basement conversion or develop the attic.

But now, I might not be so brilliant at parties, but almost every day I spend an hour with a good friend. We talk about stuff that matters. I listen. I remember. I send them a text wishing them luck on the day of a big job interview. I take round flowers when they're not feeling well. I'm starting to be a good friend again.

I'd completely forgotten the truth that, with friendships, as with life, you get back what you put in. If you see your friendships as merely a source of idle gossip, then you can't rant and rave when it transpires that that's all you are to them.

The question I really should have asked myself isn't 'Will I lose all my friends?' but 'How on earth do I have any friends left?'

Love to you all,

SM x

Rude Lushes

Happy 4th of July to all my American friends! I bet that's a tricky one....good luck!

I did my second party in two nights last night. I am SO looking forward to a night in with Mad Men and a hot chocolate....

(In the old days I'd now be on a weekend long bender in order to postpone the inevitable hangover, anxiety and self loathing).

I am getting used to sober life now, but parties, whilst getting easier, I still struggle with. It's also one of the topics that people e-mail me about the most.

I no longer get that fizz of anticipation leading up to a big event. But I don't dread events any more either. Now it's just mild, but mounting, anxiety.

I don't worry that I can't do it. I know I can. I don't even worry that I won't enjoy myself. I know I will, at least for a few hours.

What I still worry about is being seen as boring.

I used to pride myself in being unconcerned by what others thought of me. Now I wonder whether I ever achieved this state of 'blissful lack of concern' sober! I suspect it's yet another thing I have to learn to do unaided...

So, last night was a party that some friends throw annually. Each year there are a handful of new people, but most of us have known each other for ten or twenty years.

I find that sort of event harder than walking into a room full of strangers. Too much (drunken) history, too many past (accidental) insults, too many (uncomfortable) questions.

An hour into the party I was chatting in a small group and this girl bounded up and hugged the people I was talking to. She turned to me, all Hollywood smile, frozen frown lines and fake breasts, and said "Hi, I'm Blanche."

I knew she was Blanche. I knew last year on the two or three occasions that we met that she was Blanche. I've known for the last decade that her name was Blanche. She does this to me every time! 

What Blanche was actually saying, as she flicked her hair and pouted at me was "you are far too insignificant for me to bother to remember."

I was, as you can tell, livid.

But then it struck me that I have done that sort of thing many, many times. At the same event in previous years I would have talked to the same handful of people (other big boozers) and ignored everyone else (too square and boring).

Last night I made a point of building bridges. I had some great chats with a lot of lovely people. I left at midnight and drove home (still a thrill!) as the party was ramping up a notch.

Needless to say, I didn't say goodbye to Blanche.

I'm starting to realise that the boozers probably don't think you're boring because they're too drunk themselves to notice what you're drinking. And the non boozers think you're a hell of a lot more interesting and less rude than you used to be.

So now it's a lovely, sunny, Saturday morning. I have the joy of Mr SM's hangover to remind me what I'm (not) missing, but the pain of having to explain to #3 that her tadpoles have died in the heat wave.

Poor little tadpoles who never made it into frogs (there's an analogy there for another day!)

Happy independence day to you all. Here's to freedom!

Love SM x