A topic that he continued to talk about for the next five minutes, as if drinking was of the utmost importance (which, I’ve no doubt, probably was to him).
Alarm bells started ringing. It was all too familiar to me.
Not so long ago my social life revolved predominantly around drinking and getting as drunk as possible because that’s all I’d ever known. That fun, socialising, and even dating must involve booze.
Now, after sober dating for about a year I’ve learned that’s not the case. That sober dating helps me realise red flags, which I would have otherwise ignored.
I started drinking alcohol from around the age of 14, 15. In the ‘90s, alcopops were all the rage.
They soon led to bourbon, vodka, beer, wine and so on.
In my teens and early twenties I drank alcohol as a means of innocently heightening fun with friends, but it soon became a necessity. An expectation of me.
Drinks would be ordered for me without even needing to ask, or given the chance to decline. I felt completely unrestrained and like I was part of something special when I drank, but ultimately I was only artificially happy.
Consequently it wasn’t long before drinking became a necessity when I was socialising – and, soon, dating.
Alcohol turbo-boosted my confidence and, from my mid-twenties, was the vehicle for picking up guys who I’d have sex with almost immediately.
On dates, I’d neck vodka like it was essential for survival and my natural filter would be discarded and replaced with overzealousness.