By Stewart Mandel
Copyright 2009
As a white, heterosexual, college-educated male, you would think I have no idea what it’s like to be part of a frowned-upon minority. You would be wrong.
I know what it’s like to endure puzzled looks and subtle digs from people who can’t comprehend my chosen lifestyle. I constantly find myself in awkward social situations where I’m forced to hide, or make excuses for, my dubious identity.
I’ll just come out and say it: I’m a non-drinker.
No, I am not Mormon. I am not a recovering alcoholic. And I’m certainly not pregnant. It’s pretty simple, really: I don’t like alcohol. But try telling that to the average, socially active young adult, for whom drinking is as much a part of their day-to-day life as food, shelter and reality television.
“Peer pressure” is most commonly associated with adolescence, but I was largely immune to it back then due to the fact my friends and I weren’t particularly cool. (Our big indulgence during a spring-break trip to Hilton Head senior year of high school? Getting somebody’s dad to sneak us a case of Zima.) Yet there’s only one reason I can think of why I kept half-heartedly drinking all the way through my 20s: Because everyone else was doing it.
Thank god my friends weren’t heroin addicts.
Finally, one night in the summer of 2006, I walked into a bar with friends, breathed in the familiar, wretched stench of week-old Budweiser and decided then and there — I’m out. No more nursing a single bottle of Miller Lite for two hours while my friends ordered multiple rounds. No more ordering Gin and Tonics and pretending like they’re “my drink.” No more headaches and hangovers that began before I went to sleep. I retired for good.
It wasn’t until that moment that I truly appreciated just how ubiquitous alcohol is to our social culture. Suddenly I found myself discreetly clutching an Aquafina bottle amongst a circle of Sam Adams drinkers at parties and barbeques. Suddenly I found myself standing awkwardly off to the side while the rest of my softball teammates downed victory shots during their usual post-game slosh fests. Suddenly I was the lone diner in a party of eight to put my hand over the wine glass when the waiter came around the table.
If I had a nickel for every time someone’s looked at my empty hand and inquired incredulously, “Why aren’t you drinking?” … Well, I’d have enough to buy a six-pack of Coke, still my beverage of choice more than 20 years after my mother finally stopped making me drink milk.
I wasn’t always this way. Back in college, I happily sipped on cups of watered-down Keg beer and cans of Busch Light, for the same reason everybody else did: Because we could. We were underage, we were free from parental oversight, and, most importantly, we were in college. We were living the Animal House dream — one Whiskey Sour at a time.
As a freshman, there was still a giggly novelty that came with getting “buzzed.” Northwestern used to run a “drunk bus” from the fraternities back to the dorms on weekend nights. It had to be the worst job in all of Chicago to be one of those drivers — someone always wound up yakking in the front seat.
As a sophomore, the mere ability to procure alcohol carried extremely valuable clout … with freshman girls. Even then, I found the liquids I was shoving down my throat to be mostly disgusting — and I assumed everyone else did, too. I was under the mistaken impression that we were only drinking this stuff to, you know, get wasted.
Over the course of our junior year, however, everyone started turning 21, and suddenly there was no longer anything rebellious about drinking. Suddenly we could simply walk into a bar and fork over seven bucks for a pint of Guinness just like everybody else, which is exactly what most of my friends did. This should have been red flag No. 1 that I wasn’t quite in step with my peers.
The place to be on Monday nights my senior year was Tommy Nevin’s, an Irish pub off-campus where the over-21 crowd mingled, threw darts … and drank heavily.
Back when we’d been relegated to frat parties, nobody much cared what brand of beer or vodka they were drinking, so long as they got to drink it. On a dark dance floor full of intoxicated 19-year-olds, nobody much noticed if you stashed a half-finished cup of stale beer on a window ledge.
It was at Nevin’s where I learned for the first time that there’s actually a class system associated with beers. You didn’t drink MGD at such a reputable establishment — you drank Newcastle or Harp. My friends fruitlessly attempted to educate me on the finer points of beer. Try this one. You’ll like it. It’s a “Pale Ale.”
Now that we were drinking the “good stuff,” there was no more faking my distaste. Inevitably, when the lights came on at 1 a.m., I was the one guy in our group still holding a half-full glass. C’mon, dude, chug it. I tried my best, but I’m guessing I looked like a 4-year-old forced to take his Robitussin.
Next thing I knew, I was a young, single adult, and there’s really only one thing young, single adults do when they get together: Drink. Gone were the days when you called up your friends and debated whether to go to a movie or play cards or make a late-night Denny’s run. The only point of discussion now was which bar we were going to and when. Eventually, making plans with most of my male friends could be condensed to one word. “Beers?”
Sadly, I’ll never get back all those hours I wasted standing against the wall in loud, crowded bars, drinking beers someone automatically ordered for me, listening to drunk strangers unload their slurred thoughts about women and the Georgia Bulldogs. Thankfully, my current circle of friends mostly enjoys cozier settings like restaurants, dive bars and peoples’ apartments.
Still, there are certain concepts of grown-up socializing I can’t seem to grasp.
For one, people in New York are constantly going to “happy hours” after work. Nearly every bar in the city advertises happy hour “specials,” and they invariably include one common theme: cheap appetizers. As a more avid eater than a drinker, this part appeals to me.
However, as best I can tell, most happy hour patrons have no intention of eventually moving to a main course. The drinking starts at 6 p.m. and ends around … bedtime. Personally, I can only make it until about 8 or 9 before becoming consumed by one thought and one thought only: When’s dinner?
Call me old-fashioned, but I need my three square meals, and a handful of mozzarella sticks does not qualify as one of them. Neither does a slice of pizza at midnight. There have been more than a few gatherings from which I’ve discreetly disappeared for a half-hour to sneak across the street to Subway.
Second of all, the no-drinking thing can be a hazard in the dating world. Standard first-date protocol says that man and woman “meet for a drink,” usually at a café, wine bar or lounge of some sort. This often left me in a conundrum when I was going on first dates. Obviously, I didn’t want to make the girl feel like a lush by making her drink by herself, but neither was there any logical reason for me to sip on a Coke at 9 o’clock at night.
So I’d usually order a glass of wine, which in hindsight was fairly stupid, seeing as A) Wine is expensive; and B) in the event there might be a second date in the offing, I’d now given the mistaken impression that I’m some sort of wine connoisseur. In truth, were the waiter to secretly switch my Merlot for a Cabernet, I wouldn’t notice the difference.
And lastly, there’s the dicey issue of dinner with friends. Believe me, there’s nothing I love more than dining out, but large dinner parties inevitably consume large quantities of alcohol. Inevitably, when the check comes at the end of the night, we’re all supposed to throw our credit cards on the table and split it. I certainly don’t want to be the asshole that gets out a calculator, so I end up paying not only for my share of the appetizers but my share of everyone else’s booze.
I know I can’t possibly be alone on this. Non-drinkers of the world: It’s time for us to unite.
No longer will we stand idly by while bartenders stare at us like common criminals for having the audacity to ask for ice water. (Don’t worry, lady — I’m still going to tip you.) No longer will we humor our buddy with a polite chuckle when, for the eighth time that night, he shoves a shot glass in our face and says, “You sure you don’t want one?” (Yep — I’m sure.) And no longer will we be coerced into sticking around for “just one more drink” at 3 in the morning solely because we’re the ones holding the car keys.
Ah … whom am I kidding? It’s far easier to just play along.
Pass me those celery sticks, would you? I have a feeling we’re going to be here a while.
On weekends at Michigan, the last bus of the night back to North Campus’ Bursley Hall was nicknamed “The Vomit Comet.” It was always jammed and standing or sitting on it was like playing a game of Russian Roulette with your clothes and shoes. There was no clear method to avoid the yakker.
It’s a shame that “I’m driving” never seems to be enough of an excuse these days. You’d think that would tone down the pushers…
But I have a question, Stewart. Do you occasionally drink a glass of wine at this point? Or was it just for show the times you may have ordered one. Only curious…
I have no memory of the “vomit comet,” which means I was probably in the cafe playing trivial pursuit with the other nerds.
Great Story Stewart,
I also don’t drink and am a few years younger than you. I’ve had many similar situations as you and it is truly remarkabable how ubiquitous drinking is in our society…. I’ve noticed that many feel that they can not socialize without alcohol. Thanks for posting the article, hopefully it will help those who chose to drink to understand that some people (although a vast minority) can enjoy themselves without a drink and would appreciate no redundancy in asking “you sure you don’t want anything to drink, just one shot” every 15 minutes.
Stewart,
I don’t drink either.
But I also agree with what other people say. I hate people talking like beer experts in bars like they are an expert. I mean, really. Just drink it, get wasted, talk rubbish, maybe get in a fight, hug people and/or cry, and go home. Not hard.
Stewart
Too bad you don’t have a car. I would kill to have a friend like you…a friend that doesn’t drink. Designated driver’s are like gold in my circle of friends.
They’re more rare that a respectable showing by Ohio State in a BCS game.
(Yes I am an Ohio State fan)
Stewart,
As a Southern Baptist, whenever I don’t drink, my friends often look at me like, “Oh, so you think I’m a sinner for holding this Heineken.” It’s hard to convince them that’s not the case, when I, like you, simply don’t like anything I’ve ever had. I’ve tried to find the secret many times, from having a beer at parties to sipping wine in Paris, and I just don’t get it. If a person wants to have a drink, fine with me, but good luck getting them to believe I’m not drinking because I’d truly rather have a Coke.
P.S.–Thank goodness the Mailbag is back.
Finally! Alcohol tastes awful. Someone agrees. I live in England where ‘real men’ are expected to drink beer. When I say I don’t like it because it tastes too bitter you’d think I’d grown an extra head! As for spirits – is it just me or do they burn your throat and then taste horrible?
I’m not teetotal – I drink shandy and that tends to illicit this reaction form male friends/colleagues – “what are you some kind of puff?”
Like you I like Coke – so I tended to be the designated driver and drink that. At least when you’re the driver you don’t get hassled to drink. On the other hand there’s nowhere worse in the world than a car full of drunks when you’r sober, so now I just don’t go at all.
PS – great to see you back on SI – hope you really enjoyed your hiatus
I’m 32, and it’s gotten to the point that I find myself mostly avoiding people altogether on my days off so I don’t have to go out drinking. Everytime I say I don’t want to drink anymore because it makes me feel like the most unproductive person on the planet from the time I step foot into the bar through the next day and a half while I’m nursing a hangover, my friends say something like, “Oh, we’ll just need to ht a good streetfest next weekend then. You know, do something other than the bar scene. We can sneak in beers and save money.” I stand there scratching my head and wondering, “Did I mention anything about money?”
The other thing that drives me crazy (but makes me laugh in hindsight) is when I tell someone that I don’t enjoy the taste of beer and he starts rattling off beer recommendations.
You’re the king, Stewart! I’ve missed you. I’m delighted to have you back as my college football guy.
I, like most, in my younger days drank merely to “get wasted”. Somewhere along the way I developed an actual taste for beer. I can barely stomach lite beer now but do enjoy the “good stuff”, including Stewart’s aforementioned Pale Ale. And the more bitterness and bite, the better. Inevitably that leads one now into home brewing as the only way to affordably enjoy the good stuff.
Quality definitely beats quantity as hangovers are no fun and only get worse as you get older. I almost never drink liquor and just as rarely drink wine (even worse hangovers), but one or two home brews to close out the evening is a pretty good way to go in my book.
To me Coke now tastes like disgusting syrup and if I do enjoy a soft drink, it’s a diet drink. That one beer a day is probably much better for the health than one coke a day is, but to each their own.
Stewart,
You are a man of my own kind. I am not much of a drinker, there are a few that I enjoy but they are expensive at a bar so I avoid them. One thing that helps is being allergic to Hops. Seeing as Hopis is in about 90% of beers it is an easy excuse.
Try it someday and people seem to leave you alone.
Stewart,
I am younger and do drink, but I am with you on this one. Sometimes, I just don’t feel like drinking (esp. the day after I did drink). With the check splitting problem, there is no good solution. We usually will split it evenly, and have the drinkers leave extra tip and non-drinkers leave nothing. However, make sure you tell your waitress this is why so she doesn’t hate you forever. Drinking has nothing to do with being a man so don’t fret. You should ask the next Mailbag Crush about this issue.
Great story Stewart, my best friend doesn’t drink and no doubt has dealt with many of the same issues, although people love having him around because he’s the automatic designated driver and everyone else feels free to get completely smashed (lucky him). I’ve never cared too much for wine or most liquors or mixed drinks, but I love beer and I would just say one thing. Yes, I understand that some people just aren’t going to like it, I get that but it really is an acquired taste, as in years to acquire it. You acquire and progress and move up if you are a real connoisseur. The best things in life are always the things you work for. The first beer I could stomach was Coors Light, now I think it tastes like watered down urine. When I first tried Pale Ale it felt and tasted like moldy, rotten liquefied bread in my mouth, now I think it’s one of life’s greatest treasures.
Dude-
Can you write a cool essay about your feelings about Mary Jane? I have given up drinking pretty much, but a toke to end a hard day seems to be perfect attitude adjustment. A light buzz- and yet still clarity – and no sloppiness!
The Smokers always seemed to be better off in college than the drinkers. No hangover – and a willy that answered the call!
I guess the SI management might look askance, but I think you might be surprised at how many are making this trade.
Did I mention the innate understanding of hip-hop engendered? Or the added gusto for meals?
I think you might rank the Cal Bears a little more highly also….
Anyway- you’d still be my favourite NCAA scribe! More power to you and your new lady! That search sounded like a real drag.
Stewart-
First off, THANK YOU for writing this. I am 23 years old and have felt the same way for a LONG time. My problem with alcohol was that I could never stop once I started and that’s what made me come to dislike it. I never thought it tasted great but it was more the feeling the next day of not remembering and being hungover that made me feel terrible.
The peer pressure never went away and I don’t think it ever will. The problem was finding the strength within myself to stand up to the countless people asking “Are you not drinking?” “Wow I could never go out sober.” I always told myself that my friends who didn’t accept my not wanting to drink weren’t real friends but when push came to shove I always ordered a drink and pretended to sip on it or would sneak to the bathroom and pour most of it out. This worked most of the time but I was always disappointed with myself and thought it was a complete waste of money.
To top it off I would work summers bartending and it’s very difficult to turn down alcohol when you’re behind the bar. I used to find ways around it. Water looks like vodka and coke looks like whiskey and I would “pretend” to take shots. Well about 6 months ago everything changed. I had been sober and single for about 5 months at the time and I was bartending in NYC. A guy came up to me asking if I had seen his jacket and I helped him look for it. We never found his jacket but he invited me out for sushi and I said yes and we hit it off.
From the beginning I was completely honest about not drinking and he was completely supportive. We are still together and I could honestly marry him tomorrow and be the happiest person in the world. He gives me the support I need to feel comfortable orderig a club soda w/a splash of cran (my equivalent to your feelings about coke).
I say screw anyone who wants to question you or any girl that doesnt want to date you because you dont drink because they just aren’t worth the time. I honestly believe that most people need to justify their drinking behavior by being around people that drink and when they are with someone who “doesn’t have a good reason” for not drinking it makes them question their actions. My boyfriend and I go out and he drinks and I have a blast being sober around him and his friends. Not to mention that I just started law school and not drinking makes my weekends much more productive. I have no problem being the designated driver and the best part is I get control of when its time to go home.
I have no problem with drinking, I’ve just found its not for me, but why should we have to stay away from bars and feel like we’re “on the outside?” because people can’t just accept it.
PS…I’m with you on the food thing I definitely need my three meals and I’ve found that since I’ve stopped drinking I can eat more french fries and pizza and I’ve still lost weight from cutting alcohol out.
Thanks again!
Now I feel like a jerk that I sent you an email for your mailbag that went something like, “Stewart, with all the games you have to watch, do you ever just get to sit back with a beer to watch your Wildcats?”
Anyway, props to you for it. I on the other hand cannot survive watching Ohio State football (especially recent big games) without some sort of emotional lubricant.