Do Not Be Concerned

Most of my circle is well aware of the fact that I gave up drinking about 5 years ago. I went through what I suppose was the norm for those of us who...uh, discover they are "problem drinkers," to put it mildly, because god forbid I come out and say it...I am an ALCOHOLIC. (I've noticed that if you call this particular spade a spade, people get all kinds of fidgety.) My spiral down and back up was probably less dramatic than some who have gone through a similar experience, but it was enough for me to now consciously think once a day that I never want to go through anything remotely like it again. And besides, most people think I'm looped out of my mind at any given hour of the day.

As is not uncommon, after I gave up drinking and managed to get the rest of my life back on track (as poorly paved as that track may be at times), I found new addictions with which to bog myself down. Be that going to the gym, or frantically scouring the aisles of Big Lots for a deal on overpriced bubbly water, or an unnaturally rabid interest in china patterns, there was always something to keep my obsessive nature occupied. However, now that I'm in foreign lands where I'm too lazy to join a gym, nothing comes cheap and collecting china is just too much of an extravagance for my closet-sized room, I've found something else, something that might get a head shake of disapproval from others of my ilk. The world of non-alcoholic wine has popped its cork and invited me in.

Allow me to explain. After having tried non-alcoholic beer back home I decided two things: 1) I never really liked beer when I did drink so why did I want to drink the fake version? and 2) the fake stuff sucks. As in, it just flat out tastes like swill, so why bother? Right, so flash forward to Dublin, where drinking is practically required by law. In an effort to fit in at the pub, I would occasionally trade up my Club lemon for a non-alcoholic Becks...which again, tasted like piss water, but made me look as if I half way fit in.

After taking up with the bf and trading dinners out for dinners in, I discovered the two brands of non-alcoholic wine popular in the area grocery stores: Fre (with the little accent over the 'e' which I simply cannot be bothered with) and Carl Jung, because, yeah, there's a lot to be said for that which I cannot have and that which I dream of having. Upon making this discovery, the bf became instantly wary and almost forbade me from trying it, so terrified is he of my falling off the wagon and unleashing the inner demons. However, he finally relented when I promised it would only be consumed in his presence and I would never ever go on a solo bender with empty bottles of fake red wine piled up in my room all while barricaded in my room, naked, and screaming, "You don't know me!" whilst concerned neighbors and flatmates try to get me to unlock the door with promises of chocolate covered biscuits and a nice cup of tea. No, that won't be happening...not again.

So these days, I live for Friday and Saturday nights, and occasional bank holiday Mondays, when I can greedily knock back an entire bottle of faux merlot (or ferlaux) without a pang of guilt and not a hint of headache come the morning. Also avoided are those unpleasant morning-after scenarios such as, "Oh my god, where did that bruise come from? Where's my wallet? Who are YOU and why are you in my bed?"

Now I'm sure some might look on my recent quaffing trend as a gateway back to Drinkeyville, but my viceless existence for the past 5 years (excepting some memorable evenings with my former boss at that dumpy falafel joint hunkered down over a tobacco-only hookah) has led me to a place where walking the line, however slight, is a bit of a thrill.