Just for now

So I’ve decided to stop drinking for a little while. Well, a month. I decided on Monday night and so far I’ve stuck to it. Yep, two days.

Why am I writing about it? I don’t seem to have a problem with alcohol. No family history really, unless you count borderline, functioning alcoholism. But many would describe that as “being Irish”.

No, I don’t think I have a problem. But I don’t think I couldn’t drink for very long and this is like a test to see if I can. We’re going to a wedding this weekend in Kerry and I want to get through it without drinking. I’ll have an excuse: I’ll have my Dad’s car and I’m the only one insured so we can’t get home without me not drinking. I need an excuse like that, honestly.

I’m stopping for a month because I want to see if I can. The health benefits, the money I’ll save will be a bonus. And half of me thinks stopping altogether is childish and extreme. But that guy always wins the argument – I want to see if I can ditch my only chemical dependency for a little while.

I like the buzz. And lately it’s gotten harder to get it. Last Saturday night, we met Lindsey (OD’s simplyhuman.) and her boyfriend for cocktails in a lovely place in Westbourne Grove in London. We had a great night, knocking back three or four of these Tropicana or Tropical-something cocktails with some tapas and then I launched into three or four pints of Staropramen. Lindsey had warned us of the potency of these cocktails and they did taste pretty strong. But I wasn’t that drunk. Lindsey could correct me but I don’t think I was that bad. And I should’ve been.

Because we had just come from Greenwich, where we had pints in two pubs there with my cousin Declan. Before that, we were in a pub in a place called Island Gardens, near the Isle of Dogs overlooking Canary Wharf, where I had a couple of pints of lager and an ale. Before that, we were in a Mexican restaurant in Stratford, where I had just one beer. And three tequilas.

Having drank consistently for 10 hours, I was not only standing but also having conversations, remembering stuff and watching TV back at our hotel. I had drunk enough to scattergun a rather pink hue of cocktail vomit over our lovely host, yet while I may have been a bore, I was certainly not shitfaced.

Many would tell me to count my blessings. My immense bulk not only gives me valuable insulation, it also means any sudden drunkenness on my part now requires a bottle of vodka and determination. But it also means I miss the buzz and drink more to get it.

This is complicated by the fact that my family are fast drinkers. My cousin Declan finishes beer as fast as me, so I don’t feel like a freak. But I tear through them. Don’t know any other way. So I drink more, I drink fast and oh yeah, more often.

Of late, watching TV downloaded to our hard drive has become a drinking occasion. Even on a weekday, I’m having an Old Speckled Hen (ale) in front of Breaking Bad. Catherine is more concerned with the accompanying nuts and while I don’t get drunk during “TV drinking”, just the drinking for the sake of it is a bit much. Isn’t it?

It’s been ok so far. Two days is not a long time for this type of challenge, and while I haven’t had this huge craving, it’s on my mind a little. I need to be able to say I can stop drinking for a month and get on fine. It might even show me contexts where I didn’t think I could get by without drinking.

But I need to be able to this just once. If I can’t, what does that say?

If I can do this, then maybe I’m overreacting and/or I learned something about myself. Catherine is doing it with me, as much out of solidarity as anything else. I’m lucky to have her. We were five years married last Tuesday week and had dinner in a lovely little restaurant on Rue Papillion in Paris. Afterwards we went to a bar for a quiet drink while it poured down outside.

This song came on while I was looking at the girl whose words I fell for here 10 years ago, I’ve been amazed at its gorgeousness since. And its slightly appropriate title.

http://youtu.be/z9Qq8P3DRRc

Joe