on #SoberOctober: How to Join In on the Fun!

I didn’t realize it was a date until midway through coffee. Kate was visiting the States from abroad, and we had drunkenly stumbled upon each other at a concert two nights prior. We exchanged IGs and agreed to plan a rendez-vous the next day. I figured she was just being friendly and maybe the liquor was getting the better of her. Fast-forward two days later, wedged into the booth side of a comically undersized table, I listened as Kate spoke and our conversation flowed easily. It didn’t fully click for me until she put her hand on my arm, and afterwards I immediately got nervous and began compulsively running my fingers through my beard. Still, when the coffee shop closed, Kate suggested we get a drink (at 1pm on a Tuesday).

“I’m actually not drinking right now,” I told her. First Kate looked confused, then disappointed. We had been chugging vodka-sodas like it was our fucking job only 2 days prior. While I’m not sober, I’ve been trying to considerably cut back on the bottle (My “trying” fluctuates a lot, it turns out!). Partially at the advice of my therapist. Partially because sometimes when I drink too much I engage in self-destructive behavior. Explaining this can be difficult, particularly to a beautiful woman who is offering you a drink. Very briefly, Kate and I considered alternate locations to a bar, but when I awkwardly suggested a second coffee shop, she remembered something that needed urgent attending to. We haven’t spoken since.

Social life and bar culture can seem intertwined, but recently alcohol-free lifestyles have become more common. It’s part of, I would imagine, a larger trend of people cutting back on booze—or cutting it out entirely. See: the rise of sober bars (never been), temperance cocktails (not interested), and the increased use of weed (I’m listening).

“As the trends towards overall wellness continues and people abstain from alcohol for health and personal reasons, it’s possible that you’ll see more sober dating in the future,” says Connie, my therapist. Connie would ask me if I’d drink more frequently when I was dating. “Sometimes,” I began, “I think that part of my charm was that I was always willing to go out and have a good time. I don’t know if I was confident that these women would find me appealing without alcohol.”

Being rejected for any reason is difficult, but being rejected because of choices about alcohol has a particular sting. At first it made me feel like a burden, like I had been excluded from a part of society everyone else seem to really enjoy. So I went back to joining in on the fun. Then back off because I disliked feeling like shit for 24 - 48 hours after. Then back on because I’m a weak man. It’s taken some heart-to-hearts and serious introspection to to reframe my thoughts, though the learning curve on sober life has been steep, especially since I’ve previously used booze to power through initial shyness of talking with strangers. And by “previously,” I mean literally this past Sunday.

Well, if you’re thinking of taking on #SoberOctober, #NoDrinkDecember, or #DryJanuary seriously, maybe simply supporting someone who is, here are some notes I hope you’ll find helpful.

1.) Make sure you’re ready to start.
In recovery programs, you’re not supposed to make major decisions within the first year. Sobriety takes focus. Anything that pulls away from that focus—moving, changing jobs, beginning a new relationship—should be handled with caution.

2.) Tell any dates about your sobriety as early as possible. Everyone else? Only if necessary.
You don’t have to announce this shit on social media. You don’t have to text your friends about trying to take a month off of booze. Don’t announce it to a room full of people.

A couple weeks back, I told someone I wasn’t drinking that night, and in response, they asked if I hated fun. On other occasions when I’ve been dry, family have pushed me to join them, going as far as to order drinks for me, as though my personal choice was an affront to their good time. In a one-on-one setting, especially when you don’t know each other well yet, choosing not to drink can create the sensation of yet another barrier to overcome, or that you guys are in totally different places. Letting people know about your sobriety early can save everyone involved a lot of time.

3.) Don’t agree to bar hangouts if you aren’t ready to be in a bar atmosphere.
These days, a bar is the default location for any hangout. And I get it. You can only go and throw fucking axes so many times. Suggest an alternate activity like taking in a scenic walk or heading to a ball game or movie with your friends. A helpful hint: taking in a day at the observatory after splitting a joint with a couple buddies will turn out way more fun than you’re thinking.

4.) Set boundaries and pick your battles.
Let’s face it: you’re eventually going to hang out at a bar with people who will drink. If you know the group is ending up at a karaoke night while wasted-singing “Sweet Caroline,” maybe sit the rest of that night out. But also understand that battling through the initial awkwardness of social events without booze will take time. I’m still getting the hang of it. It’s brutal sometimes. You can’t opt out of everything.

The goal is keeping communication open about what’s comfortable for you. While it can take some getting used to—and take a little more forethought—sober life is just regular life. Cutting out alcohol doesn’t instantly clean the cesspool, but it can help you see things a bit more clearly. Besides, if after a couple weeks your pants fit better, then wasn’t it worth trying?