THE BOOZE SERIES

Whenever Someone Finds Out I Don’t Drink, I Get ‘The Look’

Is she or isn’t she?

In the film adaptation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the question presented was, “Is she or isn’t she?”

Is she or isn’t she a phony? Is she or isn’t she a call girl?

I get the same curiosity when people ask me if I want to get a drink with them and I answer, I don’t drink.

Is she or isn’t she an alcoholic?

The funny thing about not drinking is all it means is I don’t drink. And the primary side effect is I see other people drunk but they don’t see me drunk.

Alcoholism is like religion. I don’t think you’re a Catholic unless you tell me you’re a Catholic. There is no look to being religious unless you’re dressed like a priest or a nun. There is no look to being an alcoholic unless you’re sitting in an AA meeting.

Being a non-drinker is a little bit like being a priest. People want to confess to me about their drinking. Drinkers concerned with their own drinking often ask me, “Do you think I drink too much?”

That’s when I change out of my priest costume and into my doctor jacket.

“How many drinks a day, Bob?” I might ask.

If Bob says, “5”, Bob means 10.

I’m not a doctor, however — more like a moonlighting priest — so I’ll never outright say, “Yes, Bob. You’re an alcoholic.”

I quit drinking because I met a woman in grad school who didn’t drink. She was in my creative writing cohort. She never went out to the bars with us after readings. She lived in a beautiful old classic Chicago brick apartment with her Chihuahua in the Lakeview neighborhood.

I’d never met a Chihuahua I liked before, but I’d never hung out with one either. The dog’s constant shivering calmed me, matching my own anxiety.

My friend was the yin to my yang. She was so organized, you could stop by her apartment and take photos for a magazine without letting her know you were coming. I was so disorganized that if that same magazine stopped by my place after leaving hers, they’d take a BEFORE picture to compare it to an AFTER.

I was not only impressed with her ability to fold socks but I was utterly swooned by her not-drinking. I’d never seen it done that way before. I’d known some white knucklers, and some on and off the wagoners, but I’d never met anyone with actual serenity.

I asked her the standard question. “Do you think I drink too much?”

She shrugged. “Only you can answer that.”

Like I said, serenity. No judgment. Just hit the ball back onto my court.

I quit drinking because sobriety looked better on my friend than drinking looked on the rest of us. I was watching marriages wrecked because of late-night drunken trysts and half-written books dissolving into melancholy adolescent poetry.

None of our lives were improving because of too much drinking.

I was glad to hitch myself onto her sobriety wagon. Her no-judgment thing was paramount for me.

When I quit smoking years before, I was a self-righteous monster. As soon as I snuffed out my last American Spirit, I became instantly disgusted anyone in the history of time had ever smoked.

Don’t they know it’s killing them? Hadn't they seen those anti-smoking trach tube commercials? I had complete amnesia, like 50 First Dates amnesia, that I ever smoked.

When I quit drinking, I was less obnoxious because of my friend. She modeled that I did not have a Ph.D. in judgment, jury-dom, and executioner-ism.

This brings us back to my first question. Is Holly Golightly or isn’t Holly Golightly a prostitute? Some say, “Once you name your price we know what you are.” Others say, “Sex is always transactional.”

The question for me is not “Am I or am I not an alcoholic? The question is, “Why are you trying to get me drunk?”

Big thanks to Ellen Eastwood for editing and publishing this piece.