Why I Don’t Drink Alcohol
Except very rarely, as in once a year.
The Acceptable Poison
I could probably count on one hand how many alcoholic drinks I’ve had in the past six years. Drinking is like my Halley’s Comet.
I remain steadfastly unswayed by the festive environments of Christmas, New Year’s, St. Patrick’s Day, and my birthday.
Even watching my beloved Eagles win the Super Bowl four years ago was a dry affair. I only had one beer — the East Coast favorite Yuengling — the next day, during lunch, and only because a family member paid for it.
This is apparently “bizarre” and “abnormal” behavior, even for someone middle-aged like myself. Commercials (especially during NFL season) constantly tell me how freaking AWESOME it is to drink, and how good-looking drinkers are, and how it’s maybe even actually healthy. Every once in a while some article pops up touting the benefits of drinking a glass of wine a day. No doubt paid for by Big Grape.
Maybe drinking alcohol in moderation is healthy. It’s no doubt a good social lubricant. You see all those happy couples out there strolling down the sidewalk and holding hands? I bet half of them are only together because of alcohol. According to Jerry Seinfeld, it’s the only way ugly people can date.
