The Dry Realization

“It’s just one drink” I thought to myself.

I stared down at a text message from my best friend, Isabelle, asking me to go out with her to our favorite Mexican restaurant for margaritas. We usually made it a point to go out for drinks most weekends, which is why it was really tempting to leave my apartment and rush to meet her. But, it was January 1st. Damnit.

I promised myself that my New Year’s resolution this year was to stay sober in January. I wanted to prove that I could go an entire month without alcohol, as painful as that sounded. I’m not sure why I decided to rob myself of the fun, but it seemed like the right thing to do… especially after I had gotten drunk on Christmas Eve and called my ex-boyfriend a couple times.

Shit. What do I say? “I’m not feeling well tonight, I can’t.” I quickly replied back to her. Why did I lie? I was feeling fine. But I was embarrassed, which is actually ridiculous. Dry January seemed so cliche and more like a bullshit promise I couldn’t keep. “Good idea, Nadia…” I whispered to myself. These next few weeks were going to be brutal and I had no idea how I was going to entertain myself.

I knew eventually I couldn’t avoid all outings, but for now I was safe. What was I going to do all month long? A single woman living downtown, right next to the nightlife of Chicago. I stared longingly at a full bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in my wine rack, sitting on the kitchen counter. Working from home as a Customer Service Representative didn’t help either, considering most days I thought about adding Bailey’s to my coffee.

Instead of giving in that night, I spent the next two weeks focusing on something I had put aside for years, writing. As a teenager, I enjoyed creative writing and coming up with short stories. I aspired to be a novelist someday, but it always seemed like a pipe dream. This was something that was really important to me and oddly without the distraction of booze filled cocktails, I was actually able to focus on what could be an actual book I had started after college.

Isabelle caught on eventually that I was being deceitful and demanded to know why. It took me awhile, but I finally fessed up and told her the truth about my Dry January resolution. She commended me, considering she knows how much I like to go out for a drink as much as the next person, but told me I missed out on meeting her friend, Paul, that night. “I don’t care if you’re sober, but you definitely need to meet this guy” she said excitedly. She was always trying to set me up with someone. 

As I was nearing the middle of the month, I decided to go downtown with Isabelle and meet her friend. I thought, what the hell? Why not. I was still uneasy about promising myself I wouldn’t order a big glass of wine and calm my nervous mind. When Paul arrived, I noticed he didn’t order a drink, either. Come to find out, Paul was 6 months sober, and not to mention, gorgeous. This struck up a conversation between us that led Isabelle to wink at me as she excused herself from the table to use the restroom. I turned as pink as my virgin strawberry daiquiri as he looked my way.

Paul and I shared our interests that night and I found out he had just landed a job as a publisher. How convenient. He’s sober, sexy and a publisher. Was this fate? As much as I hated the thought of a month without sipping on something to make me tipsy, I was starting to realize that maybe alcohol had been debilitating all along and was standing in the way of my aspirations. I don’t think finding my old book notes and scribbles or meeting Paul would have ever been appealing to me, had I decided to indulge and forget my resolution.

Pre-resolution Nadia would have found it boring and unimpressive that Paul was sober. She would have tried to con him into a beer or two and convinced him to stay out all night. But that was in the past now. I was intrigued by Paul’s ability to pass on alcoholic beverages and to be able to enjoy himself while ordering rounds of water and carrying on a conversation without slurring his words and asking me to sleep with him. It was actually pretty refreshing.

By the last week of January, I had already felt more alive with my writing taking off and occasionally seeing Paul for late nights of mock tails (I found some really fun recipes) and pizza while we watched a movie or talked about our favorite books. It warmed my heart to realize that I didn’t need any type of specific beverage to be myself or feel courageous. I was no longer mortified to go out and possibly be the only one without a hangover the next day. “I’m proud of you” Paul beamed as we made ice cream sundaes one night. And that comment made me feel better than any drink ever could, especially because I was pretty damn proud of myself too.

Whether this thing worked out with Paul or not, we would see, but even as a friend, I had a huge connection to my bright future now. And I also decided that continuing to stay sober was going to be a part of that as well. So I pushed past January. In place of spending money on drinks every weekend, I chose to save and turn my second bedroom into my new writing space. I guess being a novelist was never unobtainable after all. All I needed was a “Dry” perspective on what could be. And “just one drink” would have turned out to be more. New year, same me, new outlook on life.