Issue #13: Are you 'sober curious'?
Moderation is cool, kids. Plus, why I regret criticising my ex's drinking habits.
Hola, amigos! Excuse the Spanglish – my Monday evening language classes (shout out to my teacher Luisa at Preply) have proved an unexpected highlight of 2023 thus far. This week, I’ve been exploring the ‘Should’ of giving up alcohol, inspired by the Dry January conversation (personally, I managed one sober week followed by a moderate Damp January… how about you?)
Outside of work, I’ve been reading Really Good, Actually, a semi-autobiographical novel from Schitt’s Creek screenwriter Monica Heisey about getting divorced in her late twenties. Speaking of people’s life choices – everyone should read this comment piece by Greg James about him & partner Bella Mackie not knowing whether they want kids.
With above-zero temperatures soon returning (🤞!), I’m rehabilitating my trusty Adidas Originals Forum trainers with a Magic Eraser – does it still count as ‘frugal’ if I’m trying to justify buying a new pair in a different style? Miley Cyrus’ new song is on repeat – check out this side-by-side comparison with Bruno Mars’ now-rather-paternalistic sounding ‘When I Was Your Man’. Rather fittingly, I bought myself daffodils after learning they’re in season via’s Instagram feed; and this Saturday I’ll be bopping off to my first FleetMac Wood (you read that correctly) gig for a BFF’s birthday – think dance remixes of tunes from you-know-who. Now, on to this week’s issue of The Shoulds.
I used to criticise my ex for not drinking. I shouldn’t have.
My ex-boyfriend didn’t drink. Well, he did, but only during stag dos (bachelor parties for non-Brits), or after-work drinks. The kind of scenario that required Dutch courage. In other situations, e.g. if we were having a date night together, or out with his friends, he wouldn’t. I feel comfortable here, he’d say, I’d rather not drink.
Which was fair enough. Still, I’d wish – often aloud – that I had someone to share a bottle of Merlot with when we were out for dinner. I’d fantasise about him fixing us both a gin Martini a la Stanley Tucci after a difficult day at work. I’d cringe when he’d order fizzy Vimto instead of Prosecco, as if I was so much more sophisticated for ordering the latter.
The salient point here, and the reason I’m bringing it up, is because I was the dickhead (thanks Marianne Power for introducing me to this liberating philosophy in her).
Here’s how my mentality has changed
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