A month without booze
Word By Ljudmila Petrovic
Photos by Mark Burnham
Illustration by Eleanor Qu
“I’m never drinking again!” I declared dramatically from the couch. It was a regular Saturday morning and I was eating Raisin Bran out of the box, groaning to my roommate about how rough I was feeling. Then it occurred to me: why not? Many social gatherings involve alcohol to one degree or another, something even truer for the demographic I tend to be surrounded by: university students in their 20s. It is often encouraged, or at the very least just accepted and assumed; in fact, when somebody says they don’t drink, it has almost always sparked discussion as to their reasons. Several people I know have done “sober months,” and it inspires me to do so myself, more as a social experiment than anything else: what would the effects on my social life be? How would people react?
How much is too much?
I started off by seeing just how big of a dissonance there is between what we as university students view as being “too much” versus what the official recommended intake is. The demographic I asked were all in their 20s, and mostly university students. The answers I got were varied, and few people could give me a guideline as to what they saw as too many drinks. Some factors that were cited in what defines “too much” were the individual’s tolerance, whether it’s a special occasion, and how well that person can “hold their liquor.” Some people attempted to give me a tangible amount, usually three drinks a night, but were quick to say they weren’t big drinkers and to explain that this was why their number was so low. In fact, The Canadian Center on Substance Abuse states its guidelines for moderate drinking as “10 drinks a week for women, with no more than two drinks a day most days, 15 drinks a week for men, with no more than three drinks a day most days.” Those individuals that considered themselves to drink less than their peers were actually the ones whose guesses were the closest to the recommended guidelines —though even they were a little high — and furthermore, they were almost apologetic, and felt the need to explain. Several people I asked were unable to quantify the amount that’s considered “too much,” instead insisting that it’s about an individual’s limits and their behavior when under the influence that defines whether they have a drinking problem, rather than a quantifiable and set amount of drinks per sitting or per week.
It’s certainly an issue that needs to be looked at: how do we quantify what is too much so that it reaches across all demographics? What’s healthy is certainly a much different defining factor than what is socially acceptable. After all, the fact that excessive alcohol use has a negative impact on health is true, whether the drinker is a 21-year-old university student or a 55-year-old businessman (except that the latter likely has a longer history of chronic use). However, the university student’s behavior, though unhealthy, is likely to be deemed relatively normal; a middle-aged individual with a career and a family, on the other hand, simply will not be viewed the same in society’s eyes were they to engage in similar behavior. Furthermore, the drinking guidelines and habits vary across cultures: Hong Kong, the UK, and Ireland, for example, all allow for more drinks in their guidelines than Canada and the United States. These are all questions that have thus far been left unanswered, but the fact remains that when it comes to the implementation of these guidelines, people tend to be more affected by the behavior they are surrounded by (as seen in universities, colleges, or some industries like hospitality) than by numbers that a government or health organization outlines for them. This brings me to the social environment of a university like our own.
Sober month
I didn’t know what to expect when I first came up with this plan. I figured that because alcohol was part of a social setting, this was also where possible opposition to this idea might come from. And so, I was prepared to deal with certain pressures from peers — yet it never came. A few people were concerned that I wouldn’t be coming to their events because I wasn’t drinking; once I assured them I would be there, but sober, they were calmed and voiced their support. Several people laughed and wished me luck, but for the most part, every person I spoke to was helpful, even musing that they should try it themselves. People still offered me drinks, but more out of forgetfulness and habit than out of disrespect for my choice. Now, I may be particularly lucky with the people in my life, but I also think this also speaks against the common misconception that alcohol consumption in young people is due to peer pressure; if anything, it might be an endogenous drive to bridge a gap between our peers, but I think for the most part, our peers don’t care if we’re drinking or not.
This being said, it never occurred to me just how big of a part alcohol plays in social bonding until I wasn’t drinking it. Of course, my everyday life remained unaffected by the lack of liquor; I didn’t feel any better or any worse for the most part than I normally do. I had the same amounts of energy, the same motivation, and my daily activities did not change. I normally try to maintain a relatively healthy lifestyle anyways, so I didn’t notice a difference in my health in the short term of this experiment, though I think I lost a pound or two (must be something to do with not eating greasy 24/7 Thai food at 3 a.m.). However, whenever I would make plans with somebody, the first suggestion was to “grab a drink or something.” Having to constantly remind people that I wasn’t drinking served only as a further reminder to me of how much the face of our social interactions is affected by alcohol.
I want to say that not drinking forced me to come up with creative alternatives, but to be honest, it either ended in watching a movie on the couch, or doing something that would normally involve alcohol (except that I was drinking club soda). I was set on going about my life as usual and having just as much fun sober. I did, to a certain extent: most activities in our everyday lives are not reliant on alcohol, and so a lack of it does little to change things. Even going out with friends to an event that normally would involve alcohol — such as a night of dancing — can be just as entertaining sober as drunk; in fact, it’s significantly cheaper (if not free), and you feel better in the morning than you would otherwise. This being said, I must admit that there were occasions where I didn’t feel as comfortable as I would have liked. Going to a pub or bar, for example, feels strange when you seem to be the only sober one there. Sure, you could say that conversation is a big part of this kind of outing, which it is, but trying to have a logical and invigorating conversation with people that are getting progressively less coherent is frustrating, to say the least. Again, this really depends on the setting and on the people that you’re with. Each person’s reaction to alcohol is different: some people get messy, some people get happy, some people get mean, and some people don’t seem to change at all. These differences are a lot clearer when you’re a sober observer, which — at least for me — was an introspective experience. It made me think about my own behavior objectively, and it also made me see social interactions objectively.
Not surprisingly, one of the main effects that this had on my life was financial. It’s easy to rack up a bar tab when drinks average $5–7. I generally stuck to club soda, which for those not familiar with the drink, is like a vodka-soda, but without the vodka. My bar tab never went over $3 for that entire month — sometimes it was even free — and, let me tell you, I was a hell of a lot more hydrated than anybody else in that bar. If nothing else, staying sober is fiscally responsible. I certainly noticed that I went out less. I had expected that this would raise my productivity, but in all honesty, I just had more nights watching trash TV on my couch than usual. There was also a common theme of “when this is over” that kept being brought up by my friends and acquaintances; but when the end of my sober month came and went, I didn’t even realize. In fact, the timing coincided with exams, so I ended up having a sober month-and-a-half, simply because I had no desire to drink.
Drinking is a social staple in my life and in the lives of almost everyone I know, and I think we all have a skewed perception of what is an acceptable amount to drink, but once I made the conscious choice to abstain from alcohol, it wasn’t difficult. There were times when alcohol is culturally symbolic — grabbing a beer as a symbol of camaraderie and friendship, or toasting as a symbol of celebration — but for the most part, it is habit, comfort, and association with fun and enjoyment that keep most of us doing what we do. This has been my experience, but others’ will vary. An Australian initiative, Ocsober, encourages people to give up alcohol for the month of October (also known as Sober October) to raise awareness and money for charity. Whatever your reason — be it charity, to test yourself, or just to give your body and bank account a break — and whatever your time of choice, giving up a vice such as alcohol is an enlightening and healthy experience for anyone.
