is sobriety the next wellness fad?
alcohol, false desire, and men.
after hours of traipsing through silverlake in the late may sun, s and i were well-fed and chasing dusk on the 101. it had been a good day. i bought three 5$ tshirts at the flea and had a double matcha for the second day in a row. we were happy to escape LA for the safety of her ford and a shared playlist. s is a masc lesbian, and she doesn’t know this but i silently fought for her attention at a party i held when she was dating some poser princess type who thought she had discovered the smiths. i thought they were a bad match and i was right: they broke up.
on the drive home i voiced things i probably wouldn’t have if i wasn’t drunk on the feeling of a full stomach and the warm car. s has been sober since november, she tells me it’s changed her life. i believe her. i think about going sober a lot these days, i tell her. i’m pretty sure every bad thing that happens is because of the times i drink. i think i have conflicting feelings until i realize there is sober thought and there is drunk thought and they don’t match.
i only ever reach for men when i’ve had a drink.
i only go on dates with men if there’s wine involved. it’s like i know what i have to do to soften myself and create the right circumstances.
with the political climate and the state of the world, spiritual wellness + self care are the new sedatives. people are running to self-help books, online tarot readings and higher self habits because we need something to work. we want to find a way. we want stability, a deeper sense of ourselves, a way through.
but what if a habit wedged into our society so deeply it could never be questioned is the one thing holding us back?
at this point in my 20s, i know what alcohol will do for me and what i’m getting into. but for some reason, i still find the tortuous repetition of sadness, desire and need very seductive. when i drink i text my ex. maybe you’re better than me, maybe you’re all figured out, but maybe, you’re not. when i drink i look for something to hold my attention. when i drink the emptiness becomes a black hole. when i drink i want all the things that are bad for me. when i drink i forget. and i don’t care. and i get hurt.
but maybe you’re better than me.
or maybe we’re the same.
s and i glide on the freeway and i tell her this. she says when she used to drink she would want things she doesn’t actually want at all. i say:
drinking gives you false desire.
and then i realize all i know is false desire. i drink wine and talk to men that i hate once i’m sober. i settle for shitty connections and ugly promises. i let myself be touched and i wake up and wonder why i’ve made such a mess. and where all of this darkness is coming from (maybe from the poison you sipped like soda).
i want what hates me. i want what i hate. and it only creates shame and confusion and apparently also a line of men who are convinced i belong to them.
we treat drinking like a sweet sacred harmless thing, a lush aperol on the patio, wine with dinner, shots at the club. it’s all so normal. never questioned. never considered as anything but fun. but are we actually having fun?
✰
s and i are shocked at the revelations. i tell her i’m going sober come fall, too many horrible things have happened to me drunk but i deserve to have my piña colada summer.
we talk about dating next, i tell her i think having a boyfriend is the worst thing ever. we both don’t understand how it works and why our friends date men who have to be reminded that they should eat and never know when to get a haircut. the whole thing is dull and exhausting. s says she’s had to accept that all her friendships with men are bound to be surface level. it’s like men are living in another much simpler realm, she says. i start to wonder if my using liquor as metaphorical lube is normal. it’s just never fulfilling, i tell her. i want to be conversationally stimulated. dating men is like waiting for something that’s never going to happen.
the issue is, i’ve always wanted to feel how they feel. he felt so strongly i almost believed i felt it too. it was contagious, the way these boys looked at me and said they had never felt this way, that i was something special, that we were different. i thought it must be true. but only because i was taught to trust you over me.
so i told myself i wanted you. i practiced it until i forgot it was a lie and chased down all of my worst fears and got surprised when i cried. i text you i love you with my eyes closed and pretend i am everything you want me to be even though i know we’re both wrong. i only want you when i’m drunk. and that isn’t wanting at all.
i deem this as one of the best car rides i’ve had in ages and lag on getting out of the car even when we’re parked at my doorstep.
what does it mean to get a glimpse of clarity on the 405? why do i know how to fake it better than how to take the mask off?
and why have i never had a deep and meaningful conversation that shattered my perception of reality with a man? (this one’s quite clear)
but lastly,
does drinking really add or does it take us further from who we really are?
does it break down walls or blur our sense of self?
hmmmm, you tell me.
