Damp July: Fewer Drinks, Fuller Days
Issue #35 · Tonight I decided to take a night off from poisoning myself.
Hi there, I’m Emily! 🙋🏼♀️ For those who are new, here’s a quick catch-up:
Five years ago, I packed my life into a suitcase and hit the road, moving to a new city every few months. Now I write stories about the quirks and realities of living abroad, intertwined with my attempt to create a happy, meaningful life.
Damp July: Fewer Drinks, Fuller Days
One summer night back in roughly 2004, my older brother decided to throw a “small” party at our house while our naive parents were out of town (they definitely knew). I had my first ever sip of alcohol that night — hilariously, from a classic red and white can of Budweiser. Now, I was a good kid in high school, never really got in trouble, and didn’t party much besides some innocent backyard beer pong. This goody-goody nature followed me through college, generally due to a rigorous NCAA gymnastics training schedule which kept me in line more than your average college student.
It’s been about twenty years (!!!) since that first fateful Bud Heavy, and I'm not sure I've gone a 30-day period without a single drink since. In fact, these days, I rarely go a single weekend without a happy hour or a night out. The carousel of birthdays, weddings and holidays is nonstop, and even when the calendar lacks a milestone, there’s always the fallback of catching up with a friend over a boozy brunch.
Here are a few other reasons that I’ve decided to have a drink in the past:
It’s nice out
It’s snowing
Because it’s a three-day weekend!
Because it’s only Tuesday :(
I had a lot of meetings today
I had no meetings today
I’m at the airport with friends and we’re excited for this trip!
I’m at the airport solo and I’m afraid of flying
To wind myself up for a fun night out
To wind myself down for a calm night in
To really enjoy the payoff view after a long, strenuous hike
To really enjoy the sunset after a lazy day at the beach
Because one of 162 Orioles games of the year is on
Because I’m too shy to perform karaoke sober
I wasn’t going to drink but we should finish this open bottle of merlot
I wasn’t going to drink but this bar makes the best jalapeño margaritas
Because tonight’s special is 2x1 gin fizzes so we might as well split them
Because the mocktail price is only $1 less than the cocktail price
If I kept going, I’m positive that I could list 365 of these silly justifications in total. To be clear, I certainly don’t drink every day and I very rarely drink alone. I’m not actually concerned with the amount I consume, nor do I want to quit drinking entirely. My problem with alcohol isn’t a lack of control or a compulsion with the actual booze itself — it’s the socialization that comes along with the activity of drinking that I crave.
Sure, we’ve all heard the notion that “you don’t need to get drunk to have fun” which is of course absolutely true. Yet, the opportunity to crack a beer alongside [activity X] or the proposition to split a bottle of wine at [outing Y] still always seems to present itself. In fact, given the social circles I run in, having a drink feels like the default setting which I must actively opt-out of, rather than an occasional add-on reserved for special moments. Traveling has only made this tendency worse — how could I spend a month in the rolling hills of Tuscany without having a glass of Chianti Classico? How could I visit Tokyo without taste-testing some sake alongside my sushi? I’ll put it this way: I just spent a month in Spain with a vegetarian friend, and not automatically ordering a tabla de Jamón Ibérico each time we went out for tapas felt restrictive and bland.
That’s why, even though I’m aboard the growing bandwagon of sober-curious Millennials/Gen-Zers, I know that moderation is a better goal for me. Thanks to a gymnastics-induced lifelong struggle with poor eating habits, I’ve already tried every crash diet, juice fast and unrealistic New Year’s Resolution in the book. Unsurprisingly, they never1 work, repeatedly proving that extreme restriction and my chronic lack of stick-with-it-ness simply do not mix — so allow me to cut to the chase and assume that the same would apply to a self-imposed prohibition.
As I’ve settled into my summer routine in Valencia, I’ve already cut back on drinking quite a bit, mostly unintentionally. These lulls happen every so often, usually when I enter an “introvert era” of being hyper-focused on a new project and/or feel the need to recharge my social batteries, both of which are true at the moment. Skipping out on social plans results in less drinking — who would’ve thought?
Again, it’s not about willpower, but rather a misguided, societally-ingrained belief that to fully enjoy a moment, you should have a drink in hand. Ironically, it’s those same FOMO-induced drinks that cause me to actually miss out on life the next day. I have a list of personal goals a mile long, and every dollar spent at the bar, every weekend lost hungover on the couch, and every missed morning workout serve as an impediment to achieving any of them.
Still, I’m not going to forever say no to enjoying a carafe of tinto de verano on a beautiful summer evening or ordering a cold pitcher while out watching a Euro Cup game with friends. Drinking is fun! And drinking can be an important social bonding agent. A few beers at the beach are sure to generate some laughs, and a long chat over a bottle of wine is sure to deepen friendships. It’s how we toast newlyweds, mend broken hearts and celebrate big achievements. Many of my favorite moments during the past twenty years have occurred while under the influence of at least a drink or two, and I’m perfectly okay with that. Because as mentioned, I don’t intend on eliminating alcohol from my social life entirely, I just simply want to be more intentional about when and how often I drink.
A wise friend recently told me that “drinking less forever is way more important than drinking nothing for just one month” so going forwards, rather than attempting something along the lines of a short-term Dry January-style ban on alcohol, I’ve decided to instead opt for a more realistic, more sustainable (and a more timely) Damp July. So join me in raising a glass to a healthier second half of 2024 — one with less booze, but definitely still some booze. And importantly, if you catch me ordering sparkling water over sparkling wine, please don’t ask me why.
Recommended related posts:
March Momentum — Sort of the prequel to Damp July, about how I’m seeking moderation in other areas of my life.
Self-Inflicted Social Overload — The result of another introvert era, with reflections on the lifelong tug-of-war of my ambivert personality.
In 2017 I didn’t eat a single French fry. Not a single one. To date, it’s still my only successful New Year’s Resolution, and one that I can only explain as “you can pretty much eat as much pizza as you want because pizza doesn’t come with French fries.” I didn’t lose a single pound, but hey, it was proof of willpower.
Cheers to Damp July!
I like this approach