A Date with a Liberated Drinker (AKA My Husband)

I inaugurated my OYAF* by going out to dinner with my husband last night (this date brought to you by an exhausted-but-willing-to-babysit grandmother – thanks, MeMe!). My sweet hubby had been surprised when I announced my year off booze a few days ago, and he wanted to know the thought process behind my decision (um, honey, are you not reading your own wife’s blog?!).

What I realized is that, while we both come from families of drinkers (though his parents quit years ago, mine are still at it), we started drinking for different reasons. My husband started drinking because he likes the taste. He usually drinks a hard cider, and he also enjoys a glass of red wine with a good steak. His cocktail order is a gin and tonic, but he never makes them at home. He aspires to whiskey connoisseurship but “it’s too much effort” to figure out the best way to drink it (preferred glass? rocks or straight?) so the bottles of local artisanal whiskey he buys continue to sit unopened in our liquor cabinet.

He likes the taste of all of these types of alcohol, and he drinks in the moment, as a situation arises. I have never seen him have more than two drinks. He claims he has never been drunk. I am not sure if I believe anyone can truly be a “take it or leave it” imbiber of booze, but if that person does exist, I married him.

As for me, I went the more standard route. I tried alcohol my senior year of high school. I drank to fit in and to feel less inhibited. I drank because that’s what I thought cool and sophisticated and grown-up people do. I drank for the buzz, for how good it made me feel. I hated the taste of that first rum and Coke, mixed for me at a graduation party by a friend’s older brother. But I drank it. And on I went from there.

My husband drinks for the taste. He has a very simple and straightforward relationship with alcohol. He does not experience willpower-zapping, soul-bruising cognitive dissonance. He does not play date night whack-a-monologue. He has no beef with booze. And so, while he supports my decision to spend a year off the sauce, he can’t fully understand why I feel such a bone-deep need to do this.

But he will support me through and through, on the basis of his love for me. And that is what I need from him. He hasn’t been to my side of the liberation-fixation scale, and that’s ok. I am building my own network, both personal and virtual, of people who have been there. I have a stack of books to read; dozens of Instagram accounts to follow; and the incredible #sobersisters community on Connect. I even have a few IRL friends and family members to talk to. And maybe, as this year progresses, there will be more.

For now, I am securely steeped in the honeymoon phase of my year of sobriety. Day two, baby! I feel gleeful, free, inspired. And I’m basking in the glow of my lovely date last night, a nice meal made memorable by a breakthrough conversation.

*One Year Alcohol-Free, obv. Is the abbreviation catching on yet?

One thought on “A Date with a Liberated Drinker (AKA My Husband)”

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