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  • Writer's pictureDillan Taylor

I got drunk this weekend—and I don’t hate myself

Saturday night, my two good friends hosted a dinner party in DC. Me plus four of their other friends.

We drank wine (and scotch), ate delicious food, and played a plethora of board games. Laughter was had and new connections were made.

After the second glass of wine, I asked them if I could crash on their couch.

The next morning, I woke up with their cat laying on top of me. The sun was piercing through the balcony window. My head was pounding.

But I was happy.

I hadn’t had any alcohol in over a month. Readers of this blog know I take month-long pauses from drinking. Sobriety fascinates me. It wouldn’t shock me if, at some point in my life, I give up drinking entirely.

But lately, I’ve been eyeing my relationship with alcohol under a microscope. I don’t want to rely on it to have fun or be social. But I want to feel free to drink with friends if I so choose.

That’s what happened this weekend. It felt like I just had some drinks and played games with my buddies. Nothing embarrassing happened. I didn’t do or say anything misaligned.

When the three of us (four, counting their baby) woke up, we chatted, reviewed the night, and enjoyed coffee together.

I learned the two necessities for me to enjoy a night of drinking: responsibility and not having any work to do the next day.

If drinking to me means being able to do this once every month or two, that sounds lovely.

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