Should You Drink to Make Friends?
The Answer is No
Should you drink to make friends?
The answer is no.
I don’t enjoy drinking. So, why did I drink myself senseless?
Here’s the story.
I was up in the Catskills camping. It was about a 3-hour drive to get to the place over the course of which many bottles of alcohol were exchanged. I didn’t touch a single one.
“Gee….It’s just one drink”, (my friend /acquaintance /status undecided?) Cali said frustrated.
The entire group was watching. It was as though they thought I was making a huge effort to show great self-restraint from drinking and wanted to see when I would break it.
The air felt tense.
I self-consciously stretched out my hand, sighed, and chugged a bottle of red wine. People clapped.
I wanted to throw up.
Well, for one it was a bottle of Traders Joe’s finest, and two because I am a sleepy drunk (aka the less fun type of drunk there is). But in reality, the moment of passive-aggressive persuasion and group dynamics took me painfully back to high school and college. I was (and still am) upset by this camping incident. All of us are in our mid-thirties now and it just feels like we should have shrugged off this kind of behavior alongside the last vestiges of our adolescence. We should know better.
The truth is we don’t and society typically doesn’t.
Life is quite hard for someone who doesn’t enjoy drinking. (Talk about first-world problems right?).
For one, there is the judgment. When I tell people I don’t like to drink, they look at me like I’m a newborn baby alien taking its first steps on Earth school.
Or that I am not fun. (Get me high on sugar, you wouldn’t know what hit ya.)
The problem is that as an adult living in a big city, most social events will revolve around alcohol in some way, shape, or form.
Want to go kayaking? We can grab drinks after! Want to go for a trek? There’s a brewery 15 minutes away! (Who would trek when intoxicated? Someone please explain this to me.)
I don’t want to attend yet another boozy dinner or bottomless brunch not drink and have to explain why.
I don’t drink because I don’t like the taste of alcohol. Sue me. My life. My choice. Also, in my defense, when I first heard the words “bottomless brunch” I thought it meant we were not to wear underwear. Lunch got weird.
I understand though. Friendships are usually forged through bonding over shared experiences. And what better way is there to bond other than alcohol? It’s the one reliable grease that allows your mask to slip off without you even knowing.
This is my actual beef.
Your mask doesn’t come off by choice. It comes off because your cerebral cortex is artificially slowed and this lowers your inhibitions. In other words, you didn’t choose to become vulnerable, vulnerability was inevitable. And that is not vulnerability. That’s just TMI. For all the social Tik Tok about self-acceptance, self-awareness, and mental health, there is a palpable lack of understanding of what it means to lower your defenses and truly trust someone.
Your vulnerability is precious and not everyone deserves it. You should be discerning on whom to share that with. Alcohol strips you of this choice.
There’s a reason why the New York Times doesn’t stop publishing articles like “How Loneliness is damaging our health” and “The Loneliness Curve”. That’s because more people are lonely and increasingly so. There are way too many distractions that come in the way of allowing people to build genuine connections with each other. Alcohol is one big distraction.
I recently overheard a colleague saying they wouldn’t trust someone who doesn’t drink. Why? Well, probably because they’re a moron but it made me realize that it’s gotten to the point where people trust because of a stimulant and not in spite of it.
I am not advocating for no alcohol. By all means, grab that beer. But take a chance. Don’t grab that beer and see where that can take you.
