When I first gave up drinking I didn’t want to become one of those judgey twats who avoids the pub. I still wanted to socialise with people who were drinking. To be honest, I didn’t have much alternative. Pretty much everyone I knew drank.
I was lucky. My oldest mates just accepted the fact I’d quit booze without barely a mention. They didn’t seem to have any issue with getting wankered in my company and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
But slowly – and without ever making the decision consciously – I have drifted away from nights out, particularly ones in the pub. I started out wanting to carry on living the same old social life only without the booze and drugs. But I’m almost seven years sober now and I am finally ready to admit that I fucking hate being around drunk people.
If you like getting pissed I wish you all the best. I used to like it too. But the best company for pissed people is other pissed people. Sober people like me have no business getting involved. We can’t give drunken people what they need (ie, a merry recipient and enthusiastic provider of inebriated banter) and drunken people can’t give us what we want (a bit of peace).
I pretty much stay in every evening these days. My cat, my kids, my wife and a cup of tea provide sufficient glitz to my nightlife routine. But recently I went on a nationwide tour with my podcast, Top Flight Time Machine. It was great fun and I met loads of brilliant people. But I also found myself in the unwelcome company of pissed folk a few times and was reminded why I am usually tucked up in bed at 10pm.
There was the bleary-eyed musician in a pub who aggressively claimed I’d touched his guitar. There were the numerous people who spoke way too close to my face, splattering it with sour-smelling beery spittle (unwelcome at the best of times let alone amid a lingering pandemic).