On Not Jibing with Imbibing Libations

Better than peanuts.

I don’t drink.  I have no interest explaining why or the multiple decisions I’ve made about drinking, or my personal feelings about drinking, or me drinking, or you drinking.  I went to a dozen bars with my father before I was 10. I don’t like salty bar peanuts or the old skee-bowling machines. These are details that you don’t care about, and I don’t want to talk about anymore. But I would like to talk about what it’s like to not drink.

My life has been a series of misadventures with social anxiety.  It’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m married and have any friends.  I like to talk, I like the company of loved ones, I’ll crack jokes, I’ll play a game or two, but other than that I have to dragged by my ankles to do anything else.  That’s me.  I’m owning it.  I’m as boring as a can of beige paint. Because of that, my normal elixir of depression and anxiety, plus my lack of drinking, I am completely lost in 99% of social gatherings.

I know, drinking can help the anxiety and loosens things up.  I know what drinking does…I’m not dumb, I’m just boring. But that also has something to do with it.  I find drunk people boring.  So. Goddamned. Boring. Boorish, self-centered, shitty, inconsiderate.  I don’t like being around people like that in general and I really don’t like to be around them when I’m out to have a good time.  Which, unfortunately, I don’t know how to do.

It's one of the few things you have to explain over and over in life, and you are supposed to have a reason that makes sense.  Some people think you are refraining from drinking specifically to make them feel bad about themselves.  Nope.  Don’t give a shit.  Just not drinking.  It’s got nothing to do with you.  I also don’t skydive, juggle chainsaws, or eat bicycle tires.  The list of shit I don’t do is endless.  Why am I not being asked about that stuff?

I’m not better or worse than you.  I just have a very manageable bar tab if I’m hanging with you.  Maybe half a glass of sweet wine and some calamari strips.

But, because adult social life is almost exclusively alcohol-centric, I am left out. I never imagined when I was a kid that drinking alcohol is the sum total of the adult experience. The apex of all human interaction.  The admission ticket for everything that ever happens.  I witnessed people drinking a million times, but I always thought: Surely there’s more to life than this…

Nope.  That’s it.  You lose again, Jimbo.

I have no opinions of craft beers and I don’t go wine tasting.  I don’t have any stories of being fucked up and forgetting my car or any of that.  I’m still not sure what a growler is.  My son went through a phase last year where he wanted to learn how make mixed drinks.  Amy and I tried a few concoctions.  I liked the rum stuff.  I drank half a glass.  Is that a thing?

I have neighbors that run a bar out of their garage.  A real bar.  I can see it from my window. We’ve introduced ourselves, and they are pretty cool guys, but I know we’ll rarely go over there.  I got nothing to do.  We mean well.  We’re nice.  I can crack a few jokes.  But mostly we’re lame.

Mostly I lean back and accept that I was not meant for this culture.  I love the culture, but I still have not found a place within it.  I guess there is always a misfits table somewhere, but I’m getting a little too old to go hunting for it.  I’ll have to figure out a way to lead these freaks to my house.  It’s never worked before, but what about one more try?