Dry January – a custom undertaken by the most smug people on earth to demonstrate how saintly they are by embarking on a period of sanctimonious abstinence, one which gives them (apparent) license to clog up your Facebook/Instagram feed, day and night, updating you on their progress.
For years I've gritted my teeth as I've scrolled through never-ending reams of 'Loving my cucumber-infused water #DryJanuary' and 'Mmm, goji berry shakes are the BEST #DryJanuary' snaps, and never have I ever felt the need to join in. We all know drinking regularly isn't good for us, but if we limit our intake to the advised number of units, and make sure we observe a few none drinking days a week, what's the problem?
Well...
The older I've got, the less I've found alcohol agrees with me. Gone are the days of youth when a hangover meant indulging in a never-ending carb fest whilst watching Friends. Now no amount of pasta can cut through the punishing waves of alconoia...
Naturally, a good solution to this problem is to stop drinking. Which is what I did this January.
To be honest, I was worried about giving up booze. Not because I didn't think I could do it – ever since I gave up sucking my thumb I knew anything was possible – but because I was worried I'd have nothing to offer, that I'd be boring when socialising, that people would treat me like a pariah, and that eventually I'd be peer-pressured into succumbing.
Surprisingly, none of these things have happened. In fact, I've found not drinking to be very rewarding.
First up, I actually feel more confident. I had previously thought there was something in the whole Dutch courage 'thang', but actually, now I've thought about it, all the most frightening things I've done in my life – speaking publicly, sitting exams, undertaking adventures – have never come about as a result of, or even included, alcohol.
At parties, I find there's nothing also worse than putting forth an opinion whilst knowing I'm a little hazy on the facts following a glass or two. It makes me feel decidedly unconfident. Not drinking and maintaining control of my mind I have found, most empowering. As those around me descend into various levels of drunkenness it's a veritable relief to know I'm saying exactly what I mean, and want to say.
In terms of others drinking and feeling I'm missing out: it's not really a problem. Yes I feel slightly jealous at first, as I see others relax and let go of the struggles of the day... but those struggles will still be there for them tomorrow sadly, drink or no drink. Actually, they might even be worse as a consequence.
Something else that's surprised me about not drinking is I don't find those that do, even remotely annoying. If someone says or does something weird because they're a little merry, I don't think less of them. If I think anything at all, it's to wonder if I've ever done anything similar. (I am, I have discovered, a very self-centred creature at heart...)
I actually love being around drunk people when I'm sober. It gives me an excuse to let loose and really be myself – without judgement because I know others aren't paying attention. I find it liberating and exciting.
Another surprising aspect I've discovered about not drinking is it's easier not to drink than limiting one's consumption to a pre-arranged amount. It's far simpler to say, 'none at all', than 'just the one', then having to endure the challenge of avoiding endless refills. Furthermore, soda and a squeeze of lemon tastes rejuvenating and refreshing when you ask for it first up. Following a warming, oaky, berry-infused glass of pinot noir... it's like ordering a fruit salad after a pizza: wholly unsatisfactory.
And on the subject of taste, let's talk about it... I doubt anyone really enjoyed their first sip of alcohol. Whether your tipple of choice is wine, beer or spirits, none of us imbibed that inaugural mouthful and thought 'Mmmm, this is where Coca-Cola has been going wrong'. It's an acquired taste which we've trained ourselves to like. Which means it's perfectly possible we can train ourselves to un-like it. This is easily done if you order a tonic water without the gin, or a tomato juice without the vodka (with LITRES of tabasco and Worcestershire sauce in it, mind). You're unlikely to notice, and in fact, I bet you'll end up liking the drink more – without that acrid, medicinal after-taste.
There are, of course, downsides to not drinking. I do feel more tired when out and about at night, and yes, finding places to go with friends that serve coffee past 9pm is a challenge. Without sugar from booze, it's hard to keep up with other's energy levels and I do need a hit of caffeine to keep going.
Then there's the missing of it... To say I don't miss drinking is untruthful. I love catching up with my flatmate over a glass of Rose after work – because anyone who says a cup of tea cuts it on a Thursday night can only be LYING – and having that fruity glass of red with a roast I've slaved over on a Saturday night is nothing short of bliss. But it's not the be all and end all.
I don't know when – or even if – I'll start drinking again. This period off (and its not even been three weeks) has already taught me so many things I didn't know about – and this sounds SO lame, but hey-ho – myself.
I'm not going to wax lyrical about how amazing I feel (don't feel any different) and how delicious mocktails are (they're not), but I will say this: if you've been considering giving up, don't be frightened to try it for a bit. Like so many things in life, it's the fear itself that's frightening, not the actual doing of it. You really don't need alcohol to be, or have, fun; so ironically, the very last thing you'll end up being on a night out during #DryJanuary, is 'dry'.
READ MORE: Was Natalie Portman Right To Complain About Pay Inequality 5 Years Later?