Six Months Sober

I don't quite crave alcohol six months in, but at times it does feel like an ex-girlfriend you lived so much life with. You can't help but wonder what she's up to. You want to call and ask sometimes, but you know it's healthier to keep your distance. You see others with your ex on Instagram, having a great time, with smiles all around. You maybe wonder if the adventures you had together are still her best.

When my relationship with alcohol ended nearly six months ago I knew it was the right outcome despite the heartache it imposed on me at the time. I’m annoyed I have to admit this, but it was a bit of a heartbreak suddenly not knowing what a life without her would be like. We had so many planned trips together!

Before you ask – I’m not labeling myself as an alcoholic. I simply had a moment where I went “What’s the point of this?” And here we are six months later and I'm getting the hang of being sober. To mark the rather mundane occasion, I’ve written six things (one to represent each month) that I've had the pleasure of discovering.

October

My first rule of being sober: I have to tell you immediately or it will be awkward lickety-split. And believe me, it's more for me than it is for you. I'm scared you'll offer me a drink, or (worse) very generously, hand me one without asking. Then I have to turn you down, you polite purveyor of provisions. I hate turning people down. It's better if I blurt out "I don't drink" or if I don't want to explain myself I'll ask for a Coca-Cola with a sheepish "Just a coke please." It's how I cope.

November

The second thing I learned was that... no one cares. When you self-impose booze as a dietary restriction, you almost feel like you're also imposing it on others at the table. I found that, after several dinners and shindigs in New York City, people actually enjoy having a sober cat in the room. As it turns out, some people don't want to drink much at all, and the sober person provides that "out" per-se. Many have even thanked me. Several more have said "I wish I could do that." One of my favorites is when the bill comes and people go "Wow this is cheap without alcohol!" Yes, Shane, it is.

December

I also learned that sobriety benefits are not as punctual as you'd like them to be. Don't get me wrong, you'll immediately have more energy from sleeping better. But when it comes to wearing those old jeans from 10 years ago – give it time. I didn't begin seeing any weight loss until about a month in, and when it started, it fell like a rock. I've lost 25 pounds in six months. I didn't need to lose those pounds, but I did and I'm not one to complain about a fun thing.

Other health benefits I can't explain with medical terms were notable too. I seem to remember more mundane details of things. Certain foods also taste better – that one I was not expecting. I think I've become even wittier and faster to make a good joke. Maybe my friends would have something to say about that. I'm also more self-aware.

January

The fourth thing I learned is that booze provided a particular entertainment that is, even six months later, hard to find a replacement for. For example, I'm a big fan of pop-punk and went to well over 30 concerts last year. But, I must admit, the Fall/Winter shows without drinking were fairly lackluster. As it turns out, some bands I liked were actually not for "sober-me" live and in-person. The wet truth of the matter is that alcohol made things easier to enjoy. There's even a bar I used to frequent in Brooklyn that now when I walk by it's open door I can't help but think: "Did it always smell like shit?"

February

The fifth thing I have the pleasure of enjoying is money. And by money, I mean more of it. Booze is not friendly to one's wallet. The last few years there were times where a bar figuratively mugged me. I had exchanged hundreds of dollars for alcohol and all I got was a bruise (somehow), a biblical hangover as I wake up to the sound of Futurama playing on my television with an (empty) Joe's pizza box on the floor.

I'm now using my new wealth to buy legos, skis, and camera equipment I do not need.

March

I maybe should have written this at the beginning, but I actually deeply appreciate what alcohol has given me – and not drinking made that realization more of an epiphany than I would have expected.

Many of my cherished fuzzed-edged memories include a friend doing something profoundly dumb because we had a few too many together. Many days of many trips were topped off by a wonderful glass of wine with a spectacular view (that I may never see ever again.) Many of my career milestones were paired with pint glasses clinking at The Whiskey Tavern. My (only) perfect 900 in Skee-Ball was met with cheers from strangers and shots. I've imbibed at some of the greatest restaurants in the world and made friends in far-away places like Happiness Forgets in Shoreditch, London. I wrote the original diagrams and ideas for FireHydrant with several martinis at Dante – one of the best bars I had the pleasure of becoming a regular.

Alcohol has netted out as a positive. The breakup with it six months ago was merely a natural phenomena. It became clear that the benefits of alcohol were no longer exceeding the cost to obtain them in the first place. The impact on health, finances, and (in some unsettling circumstances) relationships with friends and family hit my self-defined tipping point. I didn't want to see my alcohol-influenced-experiences portfolio go from being in the black all these years, to going into the red.

As with every other relationship I've had, be it with human beings or hyper-personified substances, it set up the next relationship to be a far cry better. You learn what you like, what you don't like, and then you refactor your life and move forward with new adjustments. Someone told me to never reply "I'm so sorry" to someone who is going through a divorce. Instead, say "Congratulations." because it means they achieved a high-point of clarity – despite the pain or challenges.

I've also discussed ditching alcohol at length with my peers, friends, and family for the last several months. Many of them have cut back on their own accord with others joining the sober ranks, too. It feels like a new trend to me. Contrary to popular belief, It's still fun to go a hole in the wall with friends who drink, and each time, I always see my “ex” sitting at the bar. We always acknowledge each others existence with a gentle nod before returning to our groups.

And when the bartender finally comes my way, I'll reach into my new bag of replies that I've developed for the last six months.

"I'll just have a coke for now."

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