Last night I decided to venture out from my hermit like existence and go to an outdoor movie with a friend. After a month of sequestering myself away with nothing but the apple TV remote and online ordering app for company it was nice to get out and surprisingly less difficult than I thought it would be not to drink.
Usually outdoor movies are a wine soaked affair, for me at least. Even if I’m (horror of horrors) driving I will have a couple of glasses over the course of the night. I took my big bottle of homemade kombucha along instead and plenty of food. My friend had a couple of ciders (not really triggering for me as I’m not a huge cider drinker) and we had a lovely night sprawled on beanbags looking at the stars and listening to bats squawking while watching On The Basis of Sex on an inflatable movie screen and stuffing our faces. Super inspiring movie, and I can’t imagine that Ruth Bader Ginsberg would have been able to wage her war on sex discrimination if she’d been face down in a bottle of wine every night. It was nice to give my friend a lift home at the end of the evening and it struck me as I was driving back that I never have to stumble home drunk or get into ubers with creepy drivers ever again. What a relief.
I had a nice chat with my friend about the different types of drinkers. She said she’s someone who can open a bottle of rose, have a glass and then put it away for the night but her partner isn’t. He drinks to get drunk and doesn’t see the point in one or two, it’s all or nothing for him. I am definitely in the latter category. I can go for a few weeks just having one or two on the weekend or when I’m out but sooner or later I crack and have a huge blowout. It’s easier for me to just have none than one or two. It’s strange how that happens. On the other hand my friend has some issues with food and that’s something I have never struggled with. I enjoy food but can easily turn down dessert if I’m full, I have half eaten bags of chips going stale in the cupboard and if I’ve had a bad day, ice cream doesn’t really even cross my mind. Hearing her talk about it I was really struck by the similarities. Basically, I feel about wine how she feels about cake.
I came home before 11pm, hopped in to bed with a trashy novel and read till I fell asleep. On the way to bed I found myself heading to the kitchen as per usual after a night out to get a big glass of water to drink before bed, then I realised I don’t have to do that. I’d been hydrating all night, I don’t have to down a pint of water to try to stave off the morning hangover, but it’s so ingrained after all these years that I do it without thinking. So I just went to bed feeling quite liberated. Woke up this morning in a moment of panic as I remembered I’d gone out last night, waiting for the rolling stomach and dry mouth to hit. The relief of knowing I didn’t drink never gets old. By 8am I was out doing a morning walk/run over the harbour bridge, nodding at other Sunday morning runners and feeling irritatingly smug.
I actually used to be someone who ran every Sunday at 7am. I ran with a group and we trained for and ran a couple of half marathons together. It was just after my marriage breakup and I wasn’t drinking much at that time or going out, but as I started going out more and getting back into dating I was finding it harder and harder to get up on Sunday mornings and run. I started skipping weeks until I eventually just stopped going. That was about five years ago and I still miss it.
I would love to be that person again, even though right now I’m on week one of the couch to 5k program and can barely run for a minute at a time. But this morning reminded me of all that and I started to feel a glimmer of hope that maybe I can get some of that back in time.
No More Wineing 