Tons of beer, seltzers, and two massive handles of whiskey on the table. I didn’t drink, and there was no one overindulging. It was all very respectful but it was the first time I’ve been to a group gathering where alcohol was also readily present. There was absolutely no pressure, the atmosphere was mostly cordial, and everyone just wanted to catch up after all these years.
All I could smell was the stench of stale liquor, and beer breath. I sat there staring at the Woodford trying to remember the burn, the swallow, the flush I used to get and the warm glow. I didn’t want it at all. After spending almost a week in ICU last year, I never want that again. I felt my side, my liver scarring is still there, I remembered why I can’t drink. I stared right into the abyss and it stared back, and I didn’t blink. Almost exactly as Nietzsche describes it in Beyond Good and Evil.
I am glad I went, I am not social enough, and it was good to be around other people my age and some that I hadn’t seen in over a decade. Everyone is married, has their kids, and is progressing in their lives. I felt a bit like the odd one out in that respect, but it doesn’t matter. A lot of life has happened between the last time I saw any of them and now.
I’m glad I didn’t drink. 310 days today.
I also had another interesting revelation: the entire experience was completely different than what I had concocted in my head. There was absolutely nothing to be nervous about, there wasn’t any pressure, and everyone seemed genuinely interested in just having a good time.