After I stopped drinking in August of 2008, I was advised to stick with the ‘winners,’ aka, other sober people. Folks who understood the challenge of being the only one in the room not drinking.
So, I did.
These new sober friends of mine and I had daily coffees together. We sat ten to a booth in greasy diners for lunch. And later on, when we got braver, we met for early dinners in restaurants, self-consciously checking our watches while we ordered our club sodas and Diet Cokes. By eight o’clock, we’d all have scampered back to our respective homes, handily avoiding the second-seating crowd, the partiers, the ones who would be ordering bottles of red and shots of tequila.
After about a year of declining clubbing invites from my former drinking buddies, my best friend invited me to her birthday dinner. This would have been doable; after all, she was my best friend, except for this ‘dinner’ was to take place at Tao. Tao is a happening spot with a massive wine list, a bar that takes up a whole city block, and there’s dancing - in other words, Tao is a nightclub. I didn’t know if I should risk that kind of social pressure. I hadn’t smelled scotch on anyone’s breath or caught a whiff of freshly poured wine in over a year.
But as I said, this was an invite from my best friend.
So, I said yes.
I could feel myself sweating in places that one shouldn’t sweat as I took my seat next to her at the head of the table by the dance floor. I wondered if I stood out from the other fifteen or so women there, even though we could have all passed for sisters. Do I look sober? Can they all tell?
I occupied myself by practicing my breathwork as the waiter arrived to take our drink order. While they all went around, ordering glasses of chardonnay and lychee martinis, I began to stall. I pretended to be super engrossed in the appetisers list, asking our waiter to describe each one. “How is the popcorn shrimp prepared?”
When, finally, there was nothing else to do but place my drink order, I asked for my new standard, “Cranberry and soda with a lime in a short glass, please.” Unprepared for the wave of embarrassment that immediately engulfed me, I fantasised about the floor opening up and swallowing me whole. Next, the waiter stepped over to my best friend and asked if she’d decided.
“Yes,” she said, winking at me. “I’ll have the same as her.” I could have kissed her. In fact, I believe that I did.
A year later, this happened. I sit on the board for a school. I’d previously confided in our board chair, Robyn, about my decision to stop drinking after she’d arranged for a wine tasting during one of our three-day retreats. At about two years sober, I walked into one of our meetings and found that someone had filled the conference room with black and gold balloons, and several liveried waiters were standing by with bottles of champagne.
“We’ve hit our fundraising goal!” Robyn shouted gleefully. “Everyone, please gather for a toast.” My heart started beating faster as the waiters poured around the table, getting closer and closer to me. A toast means everyone raises a glass. A toast means that everyone drinks. Do I cover my glass with my hand? Do I fake sip and hope no one notices?
But just as the waiter got to my side of the table, I saw Robyn covertly hand the waiter a bottle of sparkling apple juice and indicate my glass. The waiter didn’t miss a beat, pouring the soft drink into my flute, and then switching bottles again when he poured it for the woman next to me.
This discreet, considerate act floored me. Robyn had thought about this moment and planned ahead. I knew that I would never forget her or the gift she gave me that day.
These experiences stand out, but there are so many others. Just a few months ago, my boyfriend (who’s also sober) and I were invited to a celebration, and the hosts called us specifically to see if it was OK for them to serve alcohol at the party. Saying that they’d rather have us than booze, so if it were a problem, they wouldn’t serve it. Wow.
I don’t regret my August 2008 decision to stop drinking - not at all. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that there have been times where it has felt like it would have been easier to have a drink (or fourteen). Fortunately for me, all of these lovely sober allies care enough to want to help support my sobriety, making it possible to add more names to my list of ‘winners’ with whom to stick.
- Laura Cathcart Robbins is a freelance culture writer and host of the popular podcast, The Only One In The Room. Her recent articles in Huffpo and The Temper on the subjects of race, recovery, and divorce have garnered her worldwide acclaim. Find out more about her on her website, or you can look for her on Instagram, or follow her on Twitter.
